She Rises: Alt Fan Ending
by diemondgrimm
Summary: An Alternative Ending to the unfinished fanfiction "She Rises" by " Paradisical815". "Gotham didn't go down without a fight; a rebellion is quashed before it could really begin and Bane takes the young leader captive as punishment and to warn those who would follow in her footsteps." Bane/OC.(Kathryn Sherman)
1. Chapter 30

**An Explanation**

* * *

Quite honestly, i was very unwilling to post this writing at first. I was uncomfortable with it and considered myself hardly skilled enough to attempt something of this scale.

She Rises was a fanfiction i read as a young girl and i didn't realize the significant impact it would have on my life until i read it later as an adult. It's a story of truth, of humanity, of faith in that humanity, and hope. It's the story of a girl who not only is broken, but remade in herself to be stronger. I can easily say Kathryn Sherman taught me how to get over the horrible things that had happened to me. She helped me to forgive the people who had taken that piece of me.

She taught me everyone is redeemable.

I wrote an email out to Paradisical815, asking if i could post this particular "alternate ending" (as it is surely not the ending she had planned and even if the true ending is never shared with the FF community, mine will _never_ , _ever_ be the true She Rises conclusion,) I asked her if i could post this. I of course was not even sure it was her i was sending it too. I sent three emails to possible Paradisicals, two of my attempts were sent to me with failure notices. The email was no longer in use. The one that went through was either never read or never received.

I looked her up on facebook after that and found four Kathryn's that might be the right Sherman, and that's when i stopped. I sent the messages, but didn't expect a reply. I almost didn't want them. I've had someone send me messages out of the blue, had someone look for me.

I didn't like it. The idea that i might make her more uncomfortable by looking for her made me stop and rethink what i was doing. I decided i was done searching for Katty. I even considered that of course, she had used a fake name, how silly of me. But either way i refuse to keep looking for the original writer.

If by some chance she comes across this story this is the message i sent to her...

* * *

 _Hello,_  
 _My name is Ravin, i realize this is probably totally weird to get an email out of the blue like this and i apologize for the randomness._

 _So, I'll explain myself._

 _Firstly i would like to disclaimer that i am not trying to bring up the past and don't want any trouble. If you want me to drop this subject and never ever bring it up again by all means tell me to bugger off and throw this message away and pretend You never saw it._

 _The subject is some of your fanfiction from forever and ever and ever ago._  
 _She Rises was the title and it was an amazing piece._

 _I'm a huge fan of Batman, but even more so of the message your fanfiction conveyed to my younger self. It was special to me and my own "golden trio". My trio and i were always writing ourselves into stories just like you and your friends had and it was so enlightening to find something akin to ours._  
 _Needless to say Katty of Gotham became a favorite headcanon character of ours and we got your new chapters and read them together and by the end, chapter 29, we were freakin out. (You know how to build a story! Damn!)_  
 _But life went on and we realized there probably wouldn't be anymore chapters, and the chapters of our own lives kept us busy._

 _My "golden" friend, (or sisters as i called them, since i never had a real sister,) for her birthday one year asked that us other two of the trio didn't buy her anything, and instead wrote her something._  
 _She said she didn't care what it was and we took on the task._

 _I went through several of our favorite unfinished fanfictions, phantom of the opera, various animes, greek myths and i finally settled on She Rises._

 _I wrote a couple chapters for her, finished the story in my own way and she was delighted._

 _Only today, on the anniversary of TDKR being released in theaters, i pulled out my old brick of a laptop and looked at the writing._

 _I don't know if it carried the story._  
 _I tried too._  
 _Getting Bane right, trying to understand Kathryn, You, and keep the morals correct. A reminder that humanity no matter how bad is redeemable. But it's not perfect, it couldn't be since I'm not You._

 _So, the reason i am writing You today, is to ask if i could possibly post those chapters on FF as a sort of.. "alternate ending" with your approval. Something for the fanbase to have if that's alright with You?_

 _Seeing as all fanfiction etiquette says my knockoff chapters shouldn't even exist. It's a self insert, the big "no no" of touching someone else's work and i realize that and I'm sorry if this is horribly offensive to read. We meant no harm and i hope You don't think ill of us._

 _With hopes of a reply,_  
 _\- Ravin H._

* * *

I am hoping that if she ever finds this alternative ending she finds it enlightening. Or at least doesn't hate it.

I am not a good writer, not in comparison to her, and i hope that it is acceptable to her… I am praying she doesn't think i am a horrible person for writing this…

I hope she is off living a wonderful life and that she knows she's impacted people with her story. Given them faith in humanity and courage to stand up to their fears, and the banes of their existences.

Now... If Paradisiacal ever contacted me and asked me to take this alternative ending down i would do so without question. This is not my story.

She is the creator of this story and i do not claim to own anything. This is a fanfiction of a fanfiction.

I do not own Kathryn Sherman or the Golden Four characters.

(although i have a feeling if they are based off of real people, no one could ever begin to own them.)

I do not own Batman or any of the characters associated with D.C Comics or the Christopher Nolan Trilogy.

Happy Dark Knight Rising release anniversary everyone!

Also shoutout to all of the fans who have reawakened for the Inception anniversary as well!

Love you all!

Thank you for reading.

Ravin.

PS: ( _edited 7/28/2018_ )

If you haven't read the original story, please don't read this one. It will not make sense and you will be terribly disappointed with yourself if you read this then go to the original. As Lemony Snicket would say, run away, just go, don't read this. But, i am going to add you're welcome to come back once you have read the past 29, beautifully written, super interesting chapters of "She Rises"

* * *

 **Chapter 30, 18 Days**

 _Featured Song: "Decision", by Josh Garrels_

Bane left early that morning before Katty awoke, but she opened her tiny curtained area of the apartment relieved not to see him, and instead only His mask was still untouched on the table. It stared at her and she for some time stared back.

She had awoken earlier, quite suddenly and with the thought of his face crossing her mind. She had quickly went over all the ways to avoid looking at him as she sat wearily on the edge of her cot.

Maybe Bane had the mask fixed and back on, maybe it would all be back to normal and she wouldn't have to worry about his smile matching the wrinkles under his eyes, or the way his lips moved when he spoke.

But there the mask lay, and she was alone despite all her fussing. He must be enjoying his new found freedom she figured and finally turned away from the broken mask. She needed coffee.

Her hands moved automatically as she mixed her drink into the mug and she did her best to ignore the stinging bruises on her hands and face, the pain registering in bursts with her movements. She felt terribly fatigued, and she remembered her brother saying that two days after any sports event he was always the most tired. Carrying Bane, a 220lb man across a city could definitely count as a sporting event. Whether she had won the game or not she wasn't sure. Bane, for all his confusing looks and how he had touched her, was still Bane. Mask or no mask.

She stared into her mug and at the bruised knuckles holding it. Her wrist was the worst of it, the healing momentarily paused from her fight, the flesh swollen.

She looked past her wrist at the mask once more and stared, unable to take her eyes off it. How would she survive without the mask on his face, when all of her being wanted to see his face, the familiar slope of his shoulders, talk to him, touch him, watch and the way his lips moved. Listen to his accent and the way he sounded without the mask, clean and clear, it made him sound smart. She selfishly wanted to get to know the maskless version of him. But Talia's snake like eyes and the damage the other woman had done plagued Katty.

 _Christ, this is so wrong._

Bane had to have used another one of the syringes full of medicine to keep the mask off for another day, he could only have a couple more doses left. She hoped he would not have her make more, she didn't want the mask off any longer than it had to be because she knew she needed the barrier, the excuse, his mask created. Their moment the night she had saved him, the way he had touched her face and neck, proved it to her. Just the thought of that moment made her heart beat louder.

She sipped the coffee hissing as the hot liquid hit her busted lip, she thought she tasted blood. Talia al ghul may not have been much of a fighter, but Katty's own teeth had ripped open the inside of her lip, leaving it raw and painful. She took another sip and winced again. Her brain ached as well, the shock of Talia's words, about who Bane's keeper truly was, and the realization she wanted to kill someone and she wanted to kiss someone who had doomed them all..

Something about the urge to kill hurt horribly, as if she was leaving her morals behind, or like she was back in the hospital staring at a horribly burned patient her brain turning to panic, it hurt like when the man had broken the chain her cross was on, it hurt like everything was going dark; and for a moment her stomach lurched and she moved to the sink, but the nausea soon passed. But Her knuckles stayed white on the sink.

 _I want to kill Talia al ghul_.

The words rang, and somewhere in the back of her brain, a voice very much like Bane's asked if she thought anyone could be redeemed.

It made sense that she had felt Bane was somehow not as wicked as he had tried to make her think. He wasn't lovely, by any means, he had a blood on his hands that was beyond red, it was dried and dark, stuck under his nail. He had done horrible things to her, not as horrible as they could have been, some things she could possibly come to forgive in time, others not so much. But, Bane was not the mask he wore, he was mislead yes, broken in many ways, but you had to be guilty to be redeemed in the first place.

She wished she could talk to Holly, or Brooklynn, she wanted to work out the pieces she had discovered during the fight. If Talia had failed before to destroy Gotham, with the gas and whatever else, and how Bane was involved then and how she herself was involved with Bane currently. She wanted to tell Brooklynn how he had looked at her, and now her friend wouldn't judge her only try to understand. She wanted to explain to Caroline why Talia, as it was clear Bane was manipulated into destroying Gotham at this point, would suspend the killing with a bomb? Why make such an example out of Gotham? Caroline would have understood that. And Holly, Holly would have a bit of input on everything, and she would also remind Kathryn that she deserved some peace of mind, a love of her own, she wasn't just an example, she was Kathryn Sherman.

Katty froze quite suddenly, the mug forgotten and the realization hitting her almost as hard as the wave of nausea had before.

Bane had said Katty was to be an example. He'd tortured Katty mentally, driven her to the edge only to pull her back again with kindness and hadn't Talia done the same thing with Gotham?

Only Talia had said Bane was interested in the good in people, not the corruption. He wasn't liberating Katty from some kind of sin.

She ran her hands through her hair.

Katty was one person, not a city, and Bane had been kind. His generosity and politeness was forthright and enduring. He had not been as cruel and made her as miserable as he could have. It didn't make sense to her, but she did know what she wanted. Katty didn't want to kill Bane.

She did want to kill Talia. And an even deeper truth, one she was almost as scared of as wanting to destroy Talia; she wanted Bane.

"Just let it go Katty," her own irritated voice sounded louder than it needed to be in the vacant apartment and she glanced around wide eyed.

Snow had started falling hard against the window panes, leaving the outside world bright, ashen and blinding in contrast to the dim apartment. Her breathe was puffing out in a cloud as she walked away from her coffee, to where Bane kept the medicine she had made with Ezra.

She couldn't dwell on Bane, and instead she counted out the 6 syringes he had left. They had 18 days to live and 6 of those days he could comfortably go without his mask. That was 6 days too many.

She put the syringes back in their place, stoked the fire and gathered her coffee and one of the books. She went to the couch, tucked her legs under her and a blanket around her, to try and drown her thoughts and her longing for her friends in her book..

000

There was a knock on the door, and Kathryn froze on the couch, her blood running cold, then hot with anger. After all that had happened the day before would Talia really think it was a sensible idea to return? Much less doing something so ordinary as knocking. After Katty had learned what it felt like to want to shoot someone, she knew she didn't want to be in that situation a second time, but her eyes glanced towards where the gun was hiding under the mattress.

She closed the book she was reading with a soft snap, forgetting to mark the page as her brain reeled with possibilities.

"Hello?" There was a man's voice, it sounded strained, and she didn't recognize it.

Katty stood, startled in a calmed way, and hastily went to retrieve the gun from under the mattress, and then the door opening it a crack.

To her surprise, It was Barsad. His blank expression and dull shark like eyes shining in the hallway light, but his hands were out in front of his chest in a gesture of nonviolence.

"I, i just want to talk if that's alright..about Holly"

Distrust flooded her, but it wasn't enough to hide the flicker of astonishment crossing her face. She opened the door for him to come in making sure he noticed the gun resting on her hip. She not alarmed to hear Barsad use her friend's first name, but it made the knot in her stomach tighten.

"I'm not going to tell you where she is," her voice was guarded and she crossed her arms gun under one elbow, as they both stepped into the center of the room, eyeing each other uneasily. Barsad, although his stance was lax and his face was as unfeeling as ever, seemed to be buzzing, she imagined all he wanted to know was where he could find Holly, but that was the number one thing she was unwilling to tell him.

"I shouldn't know, she needs to be safe.." his voice seemed strained when he finally spoke, and for the first time Kathryn saw a flicker of something in the man's eyes, not frustration or anger, not lust, but genuine regret. To her surprise and shock, she watched as the man teared up. Only just enough for her to notice, but it was there, nonetheless.

"I only want to know she's safe, that she isn't out starving or..or being raped on the streets." His hands were palm up at his sides, pleading with Katty for reassurance. A sorrowfulness Katty knew all too well staining each of his words.

"She's with my friends." Kathryn explained, voice still cold. Barsad seemed genuinely distressed for Holly, and she nearly felt bad for him. She had seen the same look in her father's eyes when he had left her on the day of the failed attack on the bomb. A look that said the owner of that gaze just wanted the other person safe and sound.

"Good," his voice was obviously emotional at this point, and he cleared his throat. Kathryn almost liked the man better with the anguish written across his face and in the lines on his forehead.

"Thank you, i... i won't go looking for her,

I'll..i just want her safe" he nodded to her, and went to the door, his hand halting on the knob and he looked back to her, a new emotion flickering in those usually dead eyes.

"When Bane..made you, choose between killing Holly and those other people...Thank you for not choosing Holly..." gratitude and sympathy was in his gaze and Kathryn was reminded of what Holly had told Kathryn about Barsad's promise to kill everyone in that room if Kathryn had chosen to kill Holly.

She nodded, very aware of the blood on her hands and the door closed.

000

After Barsad left Kathryn took out her drawing notebook and tried to sketch Holly, free Holly, content and with snowflakes in her lashes and hair. All the while wishing she had colored pencils to draw in the gentle blush on her friends face, and her sea glass eyes. But instead the pencil twisted in her grasp and the shadow she drew behind her friend turned into the familiar vacant eyes and expressionless face of the man who had just left her apartment.

The eraser took to the page, and Kathryn, with some resentment, and some heartache in her strokes, drew the shadow of the man handing her friend a gun, and his heart, bleeding and dying.

She stopped drawing when tears hit the page.

Holly had some feelings for Barsad, she knew her friend well enough and easily sympathized, she saw the turmoil that had traversed her friends face, and heard it in her voice. Kathryn just hadn't expected to feel so off put by her friends feelings. She hadn't in the moment, it was the new revelations in her own life that made her bitter. The mask coming off, Bane's hand resting on her neck and shoulder.. Kathryn wiped the tears from her face with her sore wrist and let out a sobering breath.

Holly's reasoning at the time had seemed confusing. It was complicated and disorientating, maybe Holly had just gotten physical, and then gotten attached. Katty had remembered a point when she had thought to use her body against Bane, but she had quickly concluded to a man like him it would not endear him to her. Now she wasn't so sure. Bane had almost kissed her. _She_ had almost kissed him.

Perhaps Holly's and Barsad's feelings stemmed from a purely physical relationship. Had it just worked too well and now they enjoyed each other's company, Found they were compatible? Barsad obviously hadn't been the one who personally attacked Gotham, and after seeing the man vulnerable, with some compassion to him, Katty found herself easily believing Barsad was just as manipulated as Bane. Maybe he was even good.

Something about the twisted simplicity of Holly's situation, the fact that Barsad wasn't Bane, made Kathryn almost envious, it drained her heart and she felt how tired she was in her bones, and she felt guilty.

The door opened suddenly and she twisted in her seat, flinching as she looked at Bane's face. She hadn't even heard the door unlock. He looked to her and nodded seeming to study her reddened eyes and recently tear stained face, but he crossed the room without questioning her, his strides long and still too quiet for someone his size. Despite her own appearance, to her he looked even more shockingly alive than she had remembered. The color had returned to his cheeks and they were flushed from the cold. It almost hurt to look at him, and definitely weakened the resolve she had tried to build for this moment. Promptly her stomach twisted in knots and she remembered being close enough to his face to feel his breath on her cheek.

"Good evening Kathryn," his voice was low and he slipped the heavy coat off his shoulders and placed it on one of the dining room chairs before he crossed their makeshift living room towards the couch. He held a duffle bag, which shifted as he moved, noises like metal clanking together came from it. Bane reached into one of the bags pockets removing something from it.

He sat on the couch, not close, but his body angled towards her, his immense frame tipping the cushion she rested on towards him. Her chest lurching as she slid a fraction of an inch, and he was just so near, and so far away, and there was no mask, and she felt like she'd never be used to it.

"Here," he held out his hand to her, something clasped in his fingers.

Katty's eyebrows rose and she glowered at him, trying to look unimpressed, but curiosity clouded her eyes.

"What is that? You're not going to put a bug in my hand?"

His eyebrows furrowed and he looked somewhat bemused and she wasn't sure if she liked the expression on him, it was much too interesting and easy going. She held out her hand beneath his, forcing herself to look at her hand instead of his face.

His fingertips rested on her hand as his hand slid away, lingering just long enough for both of them to acknowledge his hesitation.

She had never noticed just how large his hand was compared to hers, despite all their sparring, but the thought was instantly replaced as she saw the string resting in her palm.

"What's this?" She asked despite recognizing it as the string Bane always kept tucked away in one of his deep pockets and would occasionally fiddle with.

"For your cross" the words left his lips with a peculiar uncertainty she had never detected from him before, instead of timid like most forms of uncertainty, it came out gravely and low. He readjusted in his seat and touched his jaw with one finger, rubbing his stubble absentmindedly as he watched her.

She looked past the string at him and felt her mouth go dry.

"Thanks" she wanted to say more, but some part of her had stalled, boundaries and borders going up in her mind. This was not just her cross, this was him claiming that part of her with a piece of him. She tried again to thank him, her mouth opening then closing with the impossible task of forming words of gratitude. While her body itched, and wanted to thank him with all of her.

000

 _I'm alive._

 _She saved me._

 _I love her._

Bane had kept the same, unchanging thoughts in his mind that day. Like a silver lining to all of the chaos clouding his brain and the city, there was Kathryn. His disoriented musings from before had definitely crumbled and turned into a new version of tiresome, doped up on pain medicine thoughts, but what mattered was the overpowering feeling in his chest. He had been worried, the feeling would ebb and flow away with the drowsiness and confusion that had left. But instead, it had gotten greater with each heartbeat.

 _I'm alive._

 _She saved me._

 _I love her._

He didn't mind her simple appreciation for the piece to her necklace, or the way in which her words turned to banter. He was fixated on how she had blushed and her lips formed a thin line as she thought it over. He could see the gears turning in her brain and he wished she would tell him what she was thinking, but Kathryn Sherman, his _little bird_ , was not the kind of woman to share her thoughts unless she wanted too. And when she wanted to she would shout sonnets from the rooftops.

The night before had been proof of that.

He had walked in on a disheveled, somewhat flustered version of Kathryn, who had surprised him in her bluntness and careless aire. She didn't seem aware of his completely baffled mind. Talia had come, and he had been absent, but he had also missed witnessing something much more. He was not the kind of man to take symbolism from anything, but the blatant obviousness of it made his tongue heavy.

He had wanted to ask her how the fight had started, wanted to bandage her knuckles and swollen cheek, wanted to ramble questions and talk to her in a way he had never wanted to speak to anyone; but it was clear she wanted to get away from him. Her eyes had fluttered to the uninhabited mask and her hands had been shaky, no matter how much she tried to conceal it. Whether the dread and anxiety she conveyed, was directed at him, Talia or something more he couldn't tell.

Kathryn had not given him time to ask anything, she had lurched into everything she was thinking about, mild hysteria hinting in her hushed tone.

"You're being manipulated."

She surprised him once again.

"This is all Talia, a revamp of some plan that she attempted ten years ago isn't it?" Her eyes flashed, "Talia told me she had rescued you, and you saved her but loyalty is more than that, this tie between you too it's madness, lunacy and she is trying to slaughter thousands of people. No one in their right mind could do this! How can you be in your right mind and follow her?" she was rambling and all of what she said made sense to him, but not to her. She was steadily getting irate and he could sense the fight returning to her with each heavily punctuated and hushed sentence.

"-and Gotham is just an example-" she had jabbed a bruised finger at him tears beginning to threaten her eyelashes and she didn't seem to have noticed that she'd taken steps forward, towards him with each bitter statement. He knew this feeling coming off of her, he had felt this unease and desperate many times after he had fought someone that had drained him. Her hysteria was a reflection of that, but her words were heavy with truth.

"-You came here, You _let_ Talia come here. helped her get here. Brought Gotham to this point." Kathryn's hands were fists, but the tears had steadied and not broken loose her war with a silent rage that seemed to roll off her, and the fire was back behind her eyes had won.

"You helped turn Gotham into a doomed war zone with a woman who's exploiting you." Her words stung and he hated how quiet and sincere she was. Like she had fought some battle for him.

"You don't mean anything to her Bane. You are nothing but her face for this rebellion. Her-her pawn, Her goddamn executioner! "

She finished, so close to him he could feel her and he looked into her eyes knowing she could feel his own outrage rising at her words, but he was paralyzed.

Afraid to move towards her. Afraid of what he might do if he touched her.

They stood still, inches apart, both of them angry and the air humming with a frustration that was clearly primal.

Only, her face fell as she stared at him, the fight she had been begging for lost somewhere inside when all he granted her was silence. Her stance slowly relaxed, shoulders stooped and she had spoken slowly, "But that's..that's the mask, not who you are.."

The room was silent.

Kathryn had not given him time to interrogate her or represent himself or Talia. Had he wanted to defend the other woman. He had instead been still. He supposed that said more then he could ever actually say.

And then, before he could move or respond, she had bolted.

She had promptly gone to bed.

He had a million things to say and the sight of her leaving, left him stimulated and awake the rest of that night. His lack of sleep had prompted him to leave early in the morning to clear his head and look at the City of Gotham through what he could only hope was Kathryn's gaze. He wanted to understand what it was she saw there, and so he head taken his motorcycle through the snowy streets, slowly and deliberately, her blood pumping through his vanes. He tried paying close attention to the architecture of the buildings, the reflection of the sky on the windows, the life of the city was dead he realized. More windows were broken then together, and the usual lights and hum of the city was chilled. He did try to see it, try to find the good her, and once or twice he slowed his bike vision clear of the helmet usually obstructing his view and he noticed the footprints on the ground, even a set of a child's treads, little toes in the snow, barefoot and cold. He sped of quickly and headed for home.

Kathryn was angry at Talia, angry for Gotham, and angry _for_ him. She still was.

Within his dazed recollection of the night before and this morning he had opened his mouth to reply and the limited distance separating them seemed to register, and she small, wide eyed one hand gripping the couch cushion beside her while her gaze shifting from his own, to his lips, her eyes screaming at him. All the words somewhere in his throat had disappeared the moment he had left the memory and come back to the present, he'd gotten lost in her; her golden hair, her blue eyes, in her scent, in a gardenia garden, she was just so familiar and close.

"How are your stitches holding up?" She inquired and his gaze searched her face. He had detected her jealousy the night before, caught the redirection of her usual resentment with him turned on Talia and her concern now gave him some ghost of a promise. A chance.

"Fine, You did them well, and the medicine is doing its job." He motioned to the duffle bag and she took a steadying breath as she looked at it, and her breathing seemed to steady him too.

"I got parts to fix my mask," he paused as her eyebrows raised. "Should be an easy fix."

"Oh."

She looked torn, and he didn't like the silence that stretched between them. He had decided during the night, to try and answer some of questions she had attacked him with before bed. He wanted to apologize for Talia, give Kathryn an explanation, thank her for not seriously hurting Talia, but show he was proud of her for standing her ground. To tell her about what she had said the night before without knowing she had said it.

She was bigger than an example to him now, she was so much more. He felt her importance grow with every passing moment. She was what he had wanted to become long ago. He had wanted to be Talia's hero. Talia's Martyr, the face of her rebellion because he had loved her. Maybe he still did, but now it hurt like hellfire. Like a bomb had gone off inside him.

He stood unable to stand the silence and finding himself unable to break it. He dragged the duffel bag with him to the table. He didn't know what to say to Kathryn, how to explain to her that; yes, he did feel used. Yes, he didn't want to die. And she had been right about everything. But it was still his duty to destroy her city.

Talia had asked him too, and he was not a man to abandon a plan, and no matter how much it hurt he still loved the child that Talia had been. And he loved Kathryn just as much now.

And he felt weak that he couldn't bring himself to tell her so, that he was afraid to loose her if he told her the love her felt for her. Scared that she would use his love for Talia against him, and disregard his feelings. His own anger for Talia flared for a moment then faltered.

He sat that the table where is mask lay and opened the duffle retrieving the parts for his mask.

He could remember a time before the plans for Gotham had even been a whisper, when Talia had pained him much like this. He had been filled with bitterness towards Talia, he had thought, she had abandoned him in the pit. Not throwing down a rope, not come back. It took her two years to return to him with her father, and even longer for him to recover from the beatings he had taken for her.

He remembered fittings with the mask the pain filling his every movement. Blinding him as his back seemed to disappear into another realm, made of agony and anguish. But the pain was nothing compared with his anger towards Talia.

For a long while had been furious with her. What had taken her so long? Why hadn't she come back sooner? She had found her father, so what could have taken her so long to get back to him? He hadn't asked, hadn't wanted to go near the little girl that had once been his only care in their dark world. He had instead busied himself with learning what he could from The League.

Her father seemed to be the only person who noticed Bane's flashing eyes, the resentment that flowed through every inch of him when Talia was around. But anger, for Bane, at that point in time had not been cured by bloodshed.

When Talia began to show signs of being a woman he had easily found himself doubting his hate, he saw the curve of her jaw, her smile, and even the way she walked and he fell. Not fast, but slowly, disdain turning to a confused tension in between his ribs. When Talia finally spoke to him, when she apologized, her words fervent and powerful, he knew then, that if they were back in the pit he would die for this woman all over again.

"That's good..that it will be a quick fix."

Kathryn had stood and was walking past him and the table to the kitchen area, and he paused his workings with the mask to look at her; the curve of her jaw, her smile, her hips and even the way she walked..

"We're going to need more food. Few days left to live or not I don't want to starve." Her mouth was sharp and she raised her eyebrows at him and he raised his back mimicking her. She glowered then and took a large bite out of the banana she was eating, at least she would never be low on potassium, he mused.

"I'll have some food brought." He glanced to where her cross should be, but her skin was bare, and despite her spunk, she seemed glossy eyed in comparison to the girl he was used to.

"Is something wrong Kathryn?" He paused in his workings with the mask, he wanted to seem sincere. Though his mask may have looked confusing to everyone else, his mending the mask was an easy task after years of practice. She, on the other hand, was the most complicated thing he had ever found; so he gave her his full attention.

Her lips twitched and she stared at her food, her swallow deliberate. She was thinking again, and when she looked back to him, she looked trapped, thousands of words buried under her skin.

"I'm fine."

But he didn't believe her.

* * *

-DiemondGrimm


	2. Chapter 31

**Chapter 31: 17 Days**

 _Song recommendation: Wicked Game by Ursine Vulpine_

 _Edited: 7/28/2018_

* * *

The power had flickered several times after Kathryn had lied to him and he had watched her shivering on the couch, trying to draw or read. After sometime of her suffering silently while he had worked on the mask, he stopped his work, now studying blueprints and the reports from his men at the borders, to stoke the few coals available and added the remaining few pieces of wood to the fire.

Then he hunched down, his weight balancing on the balls of his feet and his elbows on his thighs. Surprisingly the position helped his back feel better, and with the fire warming them, it further mellowed him, even though the medicine was getting close to 7 hours of use.

Kathryn had almost stopped shivering by the time he looked up at her. She was staring past the fire at him, her normally blue eyes seemed to flash with an unusual energy, a darkness that felt old, Holy, ascertaining and haunting. She didn't look away from him, didn't move, just watched, she seemed to be waiting in her exhaustion for a revelation.

Time passed in heavy ticks and tocks, the fire popped and he shifted his weight. Kathryn continued to gaze at him, though it felt much more like a stare. She looked livid and he didn't want to be the one to break their silence, but determination had filled him again and with his voice low he spoke.

"Last night, You had many questions and gave me no time to answer."

She pierced her lips and finally blinked, her eyes tired.

"It doesn't matter, i was just angry."

He was puzzled.

"You should know," he hesitated, rubbed his jaw, and she straightened in her seat.

"Talia has manipulated me. Many times, but taking Gotham, being the face of her reckoning; is something i agreed too."

Kathryn had set her jaw, eyes glinting with a ferocity that only a woman who disagreed with you could muster.

"Then why do it? Gotham is just a city. There are plenty of ways to set an example. A _good_ _example_. instead of death" Her eyebrows rose a fraction and the firelight made her hair gleam, and a matching familiar fire was back in her blue eyes.

He watched her silently, then stood to sit beside her on the couch. He had, since the night he held her face in his hands and realized he loved her, had warily avoided contact or getting to close to her. Worried he might break under the weight of her and do something rash. He was _afraid_ , the look he had seen in her eyes, her silent plea for him not to kiss her had brought the fear of losing her. So he sat apprehensive beside her.

 _She shouldn't have to die_..

"Because it was asked of me." He replied quietly. He rubbed his hands together, removing dust from the fire and leaned back to look at her, shadows played on her face and her lips were tight and thin, like when he had first seen her.

He hadn't meant for the conversation to turn to Talia and Gotham. For once he had wanted to be honest. Explain that yes, he had meant her to be an example to Gotham, but instead she had become an example to him.

"I think you and i have very different ideas of what manipulation must be." Her voice was tart and she crossed her arms and for the first time he noticed the cross dancing in the shadows her golden hair played across her chest. She had used the string he'd given her. He opened his mouth to reply, but his lips stilled in their motion, parted somewhat as he tried to comprehend the feeling settling in his heart.

She was beautiful, the fire light enhancing her features and throwing her into dangerously mysterious shadows. She was beautiful, and he wondered once again if she could feel the burning in his chest. _I love Her_..

000

Bane's lips were parted slightly and she could almost feel herself falling forward into him. He was alluring and something about the firelight had changed from the night before, something stronger was buried deep in her ribcage and her heart was crying out from inside her.

 _No Kathryn Ivy Sherman! You do not want to fall in love_!

She had been holding the conversation, had been focusing on the little voice inside that cautioned her, diligently reminding her of her past and the former emotions buried there. But she had recognized he was at least trying to be honest, and she had to acknowledge Bane's attempt. That hadn't occured in the past with the teacher who had deceived her. Even if Bane was duped and abused by Talia his confused forthrightness meant something to her.

It was also easier to spot his manipulations without the mask and at that moment in time even with his warm eyes, tanned skin, and sharp edges distracting her, it was obvious he was being honest.

She tried to focus her thoughts, If she was going to die in three weeks, she didn't want to spend that time victim to anymore tricks and charms on Bane's part, or her own bodies tedious emotions. The facts were; maybe she could change Bane's mind about humanity, Talia and the bomb, and maybe she couldn't. Nonetheless, each time they tried to talk, him being handsome and wanting her and her wanting him was distracting like bomb threat of their very own.

She was emotional, and tired, and with the way he was looking at her, his eyes dark, she found it hard to think critically.

Something had changed the night she had given him her blood. He'd become an unusual quiet, honest version of himself that she couldn't quite figure out how to deal with. It was awkward, and the silences that developed between them were purely sexual. There was no more need to impress each other, not really. The almost kiss that had almost happened scarred into both of their brains. Creating a chasm between them that was bridged by interrogation and biting words on her part.

She closed her eyes and leaned into the couch, if she couldn't deal with his eyes, she wouldn't look at him, if she couldn't deal with the silences she would sleep through them...

000

Katty awoke to a knock and jumped as she became aware of her surroundings. She was on the couch, wrapped in a blanket that hadn't been there the night before. She jumped a second time as Bane, maskless and shirtless walked into her vision, moving towards the door like a prowling mass of muscle. Bane, put his hand on the handle, called through the closed door, and waited, Kathryn heard footsteps walking away, and then Bane opened the door to the hall, letting in a blast of cold air. He moved partially into the hall, his movements wary as her grabbed at something then to her great relief the door was quickly closed.

She took a deep breathe as He came back into view and held up a plastic shopping bag for her to see, then set several pieces of scrap wood and what looked like a few small tree branches by the fire pit.

"Food." He said in a way of explanation and his smile and the way his eyes changed with such a genuine look unsettled her like a wildfire had put sparks in her chest. She had never seen him really smile without the mask on.

"Oh joy." Her voice was more sour then she felt. Although it looked like the bags content was just canned food and she didn't feel like being grateful for overcooked veggies and soup without enough meat. Bane turned from her before she could see his reaction.

It was late in the morning, so she compelled herself to crawl out of the blankets, wishing she had put socks on the night before. The floor was frigid and she stumbled to her little curtained area to locate clean clothes and socks. She had one clean shirt left, a grey sweater with a neckline she initially hadn't expected to be a problem, as the clothes Bane had brought her in the beginning had all been very practical. But as with most women's clothing the shirt had been deceiving with her larger size making it inappropriate. But she pulled it on, hoping with her weightloss the shirts cut wouldn't be as overly revealing as before.

After applying a slightly worn pair of socks in desperation she headed to the bathroom, doing her best to overlook her reflection, but vanity easily got the best of her. The shirt was not as bad as it had been, but her hair was distracting. It was longer than it had been in years and it smelled of smoke from the fire. It looked dry and she contemplated braiding it before giving up and heading out of the bathroom with only a quick brush through.

"Power on?" She asked as she made eye contact with Bane's back and the scar like a canyon between his shoulder blades.

He was leaning over the table, arms stretched out like a bridge, holding him up above city blueprints and a smaller file. His back flexed as he spoke.

"The power is back on for the moment," he seemed preoccupied and when he turned to look at her, his face lightened. She pierced her lips, averting her eyes from him as he continued to eye her as she went into the kitchen and prepared the coffee.

 _Damn shirt_.

"Um, so what did you get to eat?"

Filter, coffee grounds, water, on button. She tried to distract herself as he sat at the table so painstakingly shirtless, and him not at all shy with the fact he was watching her. The folder and blueprints swept up in his scarred hands, but unread as he watched her.

"Imperishable goods, the contents of which are unknown to me."

"You're _so_ helpful." She bit back, reaching for the bag he had left on the second layer of the two tier counter, pulling it towards her. It clattered to her level.

Inside was remarkably several various types of food, the expected cans of soup and one can of mushrooms, but there was also a thing of dried cranberries, several very ripe bananas(thank goodness, she loved them so much), Spam, granola bars, peanut butter, slim jims, some crackers, the brand of which was new to her, and most surprisingly a bit of that horrible cheese that didn't need to be kept cold. Today though, it looked like a treasure and she smiled as she sipped her coffee.

"I'm going to make brunch." She announced quite suddenly, slamming a can of Campbell's alphabet soup on the counter.

"Sounds lovely." He sounded serious, but Bane raised an eyebrow at her and seemed to be trying to hide that the corners of his mouth where moving up.

She wondered what part of her brain the particularly ridiculous declaration of "brunch" had come from, but went to work nonetheless. Ignoring the absurdity of a friendly little brunch between the two of them, and began opening drawers and cabinets, pulling out useful items and placing them on the counter. To her surprise she found a cabinet of spices and grabbed several along with a can opener and olive oil.

She worked wordlessly, opening cans and draining the mushrooms into the sink. sipping coffee and chopping cheese. She had only found butter knives and she almost asked Bane about it, but the oil was beginning to sizzle in the pan so she kept her mouth shut and cooked.

She felt like she was also beginning to pop, smoke and sizzle, like the oil, with how his eyes trailed on her. His gaze had hardly left her and once again the feeling was physical, heavy on her shoulders, quickening her heartbeat and she tried to use her hair as a shield as she leaned over the counter.

She had only ever cut herself chopping anything, but once when she was very, very young. A boy she had liked had come over for a school project and he had stayed for dinner. She was just old enough to start noticing boys and to her embarrassment, her mother had asked her to help with preparing the remembered every action had seemed awkward and not cool enough. The boy, Jeremy she thought his name had been, was quizzing her for a test while spinning in one of the family desk chairs. She had simply cut the very tip of her finger, nothing bad or deep, but it bled and bled and bled and she was mortified. All the while her mother fussing and telling her it wasn't her fault, little Kathryn's face turning scarlet.

Looking back on the memory it was rather comical, she had to have been only 13 at most, and then, the fact had been lost on her then that Jeremy was completely ignoring her, spinning in a chair.

She wished Bane would spin in a chair and stop staring at her. This nervousness was ten times worse then her worry about Jeremy thinking she was lame. She was almost sweating and she tried to blame it on the heat from the stove top as she continued to lay out crackers on a plate she had found.

It was just so strange doing something so normal with him watching her.

The familiar sound of food being prepared reminded her then of her mother and she felt a veil of loneliness cross her, the memories of her mother and grandmother preparing holiday meals and the way they hummed in the kitchen felt heavy. Katty glanced up wishing the"live, love, laugh," tacky urban picture frame would be above the stovetop, holding a picture of her family. But instead the bleak modern apartment had a reflective metal back, with a lonely magnet for holding knives.

She sighed and turned the stove top off, ladling soup into two bowls.

"Wait, are you hungry?" She asked suddenly remembering where she was, her eyes flicking to Bane, a ladle full of hot soup hanging in mid air.

"Famished," he stood from the table, and walked to the island countertop moving like a praying animal to look at her arrangement.

"Am i correct in understanding that this soup has letters in it?"

He was staring at the bowl she had set before him his brow wrinkled.

"It's alphabet soup? With some extras, but it's lame without something." She picked her own bowl up, looking at the random letters, there was always an unpleasant number of X's in this soup. She wished the bowl wasn't quite so hot against her hands, as she hurried away from Bane, only to have to go back past him for a spoon. She grabbed the plate of crackers and her coffee too, only to find herself much to quickly, sitting, across from him at the table, dread filling her stomach.

He was going to eat. In front of her.

In fact he already was.

She wasn't sure what she had expected, maybe a scene from Tarzan where he would eat it all quickly and with his hands, or Beauty and the Beast, the whole bowl picked up and slurped down in seconds his face covered in soup. But instead, it was all strangely normal. He ate a bit fast, his spoon already dipping into the bowl a third time, but it was all very, normal.

She took a sip and it was painfully hot and she set her spoon down.

"Aren't You burning your tongue?" She took one of her peanut butter crackers with little cranberries and ate it.

Bane paused and glanced at the soup.

"I do not know," he admitted looking at her oddly.

"I suppose i am," he took a cracker from the plate, one with cheese and she froze as he ate it. The motions were so...normal.

"Yes, the soup is hot." He stated, taking another cracker his large arm easily reaching all the way to the middle of the table were Kathryn had to strain.

"What?" She was flustered and blew on her spoon trying to ignore the fact that he was shirtless and eating so _easily_ in front of her. As if it happened everyday.

"If something is too hot i can't taste it, or feel it."

"That seems like an extreme flaw?" She found herself staring at his mouth and he paused his eating to look at her.

"It is an inconvenience due to the medicine," he smiled just slightly and she blew on her soup trying to ignore him. It made sense, heat made it hard to taste, but it was such a bizarre thought. Something nobody normal would ever have to deal with.

He had stopped and was looking at one of the crackers she had put cheese on.

"My favorite food was always cheese on toast" he admitted somewhat distantly. She didn't know what to say, so she cautiously tried her soup.

The soup once cooled a little, and to her relief hadn't turned out so bad. She had browned the mushrooms in hopes of giving the childish soup some palatability and added a little bit of the cheese, which despite its scary shelf life, did give it some flavor. The amount of spices she had added was ungodly, and she was proud of the outcome.

"Try it now," she suggested moving letters around mushrooms in her own bowl.

He did and made a pleased noise that made her almost choke on a mouthful.

"You cook well," he sounded just a little bit surprised, and she almost commented on it, but bit back the retort.

"My grandmother taught me."

"She taught You well."

They ate in silence till there was mostly peanut butter crackers topped with craisins left and she had spelled, Holly, a broken version of Brooklynne, and was looking for a C, and A, for Caroline.

She located the A and it was next to a B. She quickly spelled out "Bane" the word sitting on the rim of her bowl. She stared for some time, wondering quietly where her friends were, and how she had ended up here; having soup with a man she was almost positive she was in love with, and was almost certain she would die with.

"How amusing," his voice was deep, and she jerked. Looking up to Bane, her eyes traveling to where his own gaze studied his spoon. There on the silver surface sat several letters, she read them upside down and almost snorted.

"You couldn't think of anything else to spell out? Really?"

Bane regarded her and she had never seen him shrug before and it was tight and almost looked painful.

"I already ate good portion, _cat_ just appeared naturally, _Kat_ hyrine" he said her name with some inflection and she laughed at him. It wasn't a very logical laugh and she found it almost stupid that she was laughing at such a horrible joke of life, but the irony was there and she tilted her bowl showing him her own noodle creation.

He saw it and smiled, mostly with his eyes, but the slight flash of teeth was enough to make her heart lurch in her chest and she stopped laughing rather abruptly as she bit her lip. When he looked up at her, there was something on his face. The same look that had crossed his face when he had held her face in his hands and the mood seemed to shift in the room.

"You are never what i expect Kathryn Sherman." His voice was low and rough and a shiver ran down her spine, Her breathing hitching and she tried to remind herself he was a murderer. Gotham's reckoning and not her _brunch_ partner.

They were still and she froze, utterly surprised, as he reached across the table and touched her hand. His eyes like a storm, his breaths deep, chest steadily rising, and jaw set. He looked like art as he stared into her and seemed to grab pieces of her.

In that moment He was an ancient painting that created its own story; the little scars on his face, the set of his shoulders, the stubble on his cheek, the fresh cut on his neck, the pulse hiding above it, the hand on hers anchoring her to him.

He anchored her in a sea of doubts that screamed questions at her and shoved the past like salty water into her eyes. But she couldn't look away from him. Some boundary, a border crossed, a wall between them crumbled, and here she was, she couldn't swim back to shore.

"I was never going to win," he spoke in a whisper, eyes never leaving hers.

" From that first day, since i first decided to take You, to try and break You, corrupt you, i was _never_ going to win."

She swallowed the emotions rising in her throat. She wanted to say she wished he had never taken her, never touched her, never almost kissed her, but his fingers were intertwining with hers or hers were intertwining with his and she couldn't decide what was truth and what was a lie.

"You're ever the martyr," he smiled sadly and she could feel how heavy his words were for him. Remorse that was deeper than the ocean and colder than space, rang from his chest.

She held his hand tight till it hurt her bruised knuckles.

The strength she had months before was withered and lonely. She didn't feel strong, the shadows of those she had killed hanging over her and if she was honest with herself, the only life she had ever truly saved was his. The deceived destroyer of Gotham and everything hurt. Because she was sure, when she looked into his eyes that even swimming in the doubts of the past she knew how she felt. The realization hitting her like a train wreck in her chest.

 _I love him._

 _I saved him._

 _I don't want to die._

He was everything she had feared, everything she had wanted. A man lost, and she had helped him find himself. She had told herself in the beginning that she couldn't save him, couldn't love him enough to fix the pieces of him; she hadn't understood. But now she had an understanding like none she had ever had before, now she saw the kind of broken that he was and she hadn't even had to try.

"I didn't plan on not being ready to die, Kathryn." His voice was barely steady and he closed his eyes for a moment, tight like he was trying to hold back an emotion he wasn't sure he was capable of. But with his eyes closed, it felt like she was falling into herself, her chest collapsing inwards. Her breathing painful and panicked until his eyes opened; shining and grey and dark and clouded and alive.

 _Alive because of her._

"I believed i was going to be Talia's martyr, because it is for her, all of this... I thought i loved her, i didn't know then, what i know now."

His thumb rubbed her hand.

"You-Kathryn, you... your example, Your values. You saved even my life.. and some things are not meant to be understood, or rationalized. You are incomprehensible and i don't remember what it feels like to be like you. I don't know if i ever did.

I don't know if You even notice You, if You want to _be_ noticed, but I've noticed You and.. _i am so sorry_.." his voice had gotten quiet, the emotion tightening his throat to the point he couldn't speak for a moment. And the way his lips trapped the words inside himself and they threatened to spill over in his eyes, stabbed her.

"I noticed You" he persisted, "Your example and i don't want to carry out this sentence, but it is my burden to bare. I don't want to be the face of this rebellion, but i have an obligation, it's something i cannot stop. Not even for the one i care for.. the one i love..."

His jaw set and ocean filled eyes met steel grey, and they were both aware of the change that had happened the night she had saved him, the final blow that broke their normalcy as he for the first time spoke the truth into the air between them.

He was breaking in front of her she realized, and she had no words inside her that could be spoken aloud, she had too much distrust and doubt.

 _I love him._

 _I saved him._

 _I don't want to die._

He had tried and tested her too the point of breaking and all she wanted was to save her city, or so she had thought, but if that meant saving him too, she wanted to _try._

 _Oh_ _god she wanted to save him._

"I don't want to die Bane, i don't" she didn't know what she had expected to say, but her tears finally fell and all the words came tumbling out, her voice pleading and desperate.

"I _didn't_ want to be noticed, i never have, i just wanted to save my city. I didn't care if i died, but i don't _want_ to die. I saved you because i wanted to save my city, i did it because you could make a difference. If You care at all _please_ , don't be the face-" she corrected herself, "-mask of this rebellion. You're the only one who can change anything anymore, Bane."

He was refusing to look at her then, like he couldn't, and the set of his jaw showed something she had said had struck him and she looked through her tears at him like he was in a prism. She wanted to love him, wanted to hold his hand with the same sincerity he held hers, but the ghost of Talia and a bomb rested between them and in the scars on her knuckles.

"I care for you," he finally said and his voice was drawn and his eyes looked at her so tired, and broken, like it was the hardest thing he'd ever done telling her that truth.

"The bomb's reactor is likely broken.. And if i could save you, Kathryn, i would. " His words were resolute and they poured a fire into her heart and she knew he could sense her rejection of his words and him as she pulled her hand away from his.

 _I love him._

 _I saved him._

 _i don't want to die!_

"Please, Kathryne there is nothing I can do."

She was standing before she knew what she was doing and her head was shaking blonde hair flying, her doubts ebbing and flowing in and out of her, like her skin had a million painful paper cuts and his words didn't truly register.

"No Bane, _you_ _can_ stop it! If You wanted all of this would be over! You would save Gotham if you really loved me!" Tears brimmed in her eyes and her hands balled into fists and she gasped as she realized what had come flying out of her mouth. The truth he was trying to convey and she was trying to deny.

And it all happened so fast.

In an instant he was standing above her. The chair she had been sitting in pulled away from her and the table and cast away with a crash.

"Kathryn! _I Cannot Save Your City!_ "

His voice rolled like thunder, his grey eyes locked fiercely on hers like she was the only thing he could see and her face was trapped roughly in his hands and he was so close to her, her hair had brushed his cheek and caught on his stubble.

His eyes, dark and wanting looked to her lips, and came back to her eyes hungry and primal.

"No one can." He whispered and his breath brushed her lips. She was pressed against the table stuck between the hurricane in his eyes. A sob threatening to escape her chest.

She shuddered her hands on his chest.

"I would do _anything_ for you if i could..." his finger brushed one of the tears from her cheek and his head tilted towards hers, his face mere inches from her own.

Time froze there and part of her was so wary and scared of her feelings towards him, of the darkness she felt coursing through him, and the other half of her recognized her own blood pumping through his veins and she wanted to lunge at him.

To get the unavoidable moment hanging between them out of the way. Release the tension in the air. She wanted to, she wanted him, but that moment, unavoidable and life changing was terrifying. And even worse, beyond that terrifying moment, behind a kiss, was only 17 Days, and then their deaths.

And that thought broke the spell.

He was killing them, and how could she ever love a man so full of destruction?

"Just get away from me!" She snarled, her nails digging into his arms and ripped his hands from her face. She was buzzing, her heart drumming and every bit of her screaming.

She wanted to kiss him, she wanted to shout, she wanted to hit him and she wanted to _live_.

"Just leave me alone!"

Something had broken inside her, the barrier that had stayed between them even after the night she had saved him. This was deeper something ancient, more than past histories scars ripping loose leaving her raw. This was an anger at herself and at God for putting her in this situation. She had nowhere to run too to get away from him. So she went into the bathroom and slammed the door. She stared in the mirror and for a moment everything was white. She was holding her cross, sliding down the bathroom door weeping.

 _God what do i do? God what do i do?_

* * *

 **Howdy everyone!**

 **Thank you for your well wishes, blessings on this alt ending and most of all the reviews~!**

 **I know its right to get inspiration from a review, but you all have done even more. You've put my mind at ease, and given me some peace. When i posted the first chapt, I was expecting to be met with ridicule and mockery for attempting this. I really just want to share this with you all and tried to have the best intentions, but you never know how people will react. Thank you for your kindness towards me and the creator/author.**

 **To put you all at ease, i wanted to let everyone know that i have 12 chapters written. They WILL be posted(Unless the original writer stops me sometime along the way). The reason they haven't been posted already is some of them are the very original's from my (golden) sister's birthday. Some of those originals have less then 600 words in them and need a lot of work. I am posting slowly because i don't have an editor and don't trust myself at all to not miss mistakes (obviously grammar has never been my strong suit!) But mostly because i want to carry the story properly. There has been a very slow and tedious build up of emotions between Kathryn and Bane. I could easily throw them all out on a cheesy cracker, alphabet soup covered table, but i am trying desperately not too. As it is, i have added chapter ideas to the original 12 i wrote. There's probably (at least!) going to be 15 more chapters.**

 **If anybody is interested my tumblr has lots of my random inspiration, and i will probably be posting more as i write along. Feel free to follow me "#She Rises Alt" Tag on tumblr if you aren't interested in following my whole (incredibly random, mostly fandom themed) blog.**

 **Lastly, i seriously suggest looking up the song at the beginning of this chapter. It and the TDKR anniversary is what inspired me to start writing this again!**

 **With love,**

 **- _Diemondgrimm_**


	3. Chapter 32

**Chapter 32, Fire**

 _Song Recommendation: "No light, No Light" (MT unplugged version) by, Florence and the machine_

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Loss was a fickle thing. You didn't realize what a weight something could be until it was gone, you didn't know what the loss of different people could entail. Worst of all, you didn't know how horrible it could be, to have the loss of a burden, then too suddenly having that burden returned to you.

The familiar weight of his mask and the absence of the buzz from the replacement medicine she had concocted for him left Bane feeling irritable. His heart was also heavy from the dismaying scene that had transpired that morning with Kathryn.

Her overreaction to him and his straightforward answers about the bomb was easy to understand. It was a childish rejection of reality, something she was prone to. The scorn and apprehension in her gaze had pained him. But when he cornered her, she had stilled in his arms. It was only a moment, just long enough for him to see her face change from thoughts of the bomb, to thoughts of him. His desire mirrored in her eyes, had caught the helplessness he had felt in his chest and cast if far away.

A heartbeat later and Kathryn had brought it right back. The scratches on his arms, though painless due to the medicine from his mask, still left a physical reminder of her unwillingness to let him get close to her. He hadn't known how to react when faced with the truth he had been sensing from her all along. He had been lost in the feeling of her body flush against his, the frustration inside him. Her words 'if you loved me', burning into his brain. But still, she had pulled away. Hiding herself from him.

He had not realized in the moments after she had saved him, when every ounce of his being had been buzzing with a fathomless adoration for her, that she would, despite his own feelings, continue to be the martyr he adored. The strong-willed woman he loved would not be as impulsive as he was. Her past he could respect, it was his own with Talia that made it it discouraging.

He was emotional, but he was critical of it too. The return to his old medicine, along with the burden of the bomb suddenly weighing on him, was more than he had expected.

To him, this was the start of how it all ended. The world that was Gotham was set to burn and nobody could change that. He had known for sometime Talia would try to destroy the bombs reactor, but some part of him had denied it. The weight of the bomb being the thing to control his fate now unnerved him and Kathryn's eyes flashed in his mind. She made him burn from the inside out, and her rejection, the fear and hurt in her eyes felt so much worse than a bomb.

He wanted to rip out her fear, turn it into power, and he wasn't sure if that was what love was, wanting to fix her. Taking the little-broken pieces that were so afraid to get near him and making them into a new Kathryn that wasn't afraid to love him. A Kathryn that was different from the one in her psychiatric file. But Kathryn had proven that changing someone like her was impossible without her consent, it would have to be her own decision. What Kathryn desired was to save her city. What he really wanted was her love, and he wanted it desperately enough to threaten who she was a second time and that made him sick.

He would not change her. He loved her for all her scars and imperfections, and how she had changed him.

No one could have changed Bane but Kathryn, and in doing so, she had planted a seed of doubt and fear so deep inside him even the pain of rejection couldn't tear out the roots of it. Because, he could only assume, he didn't know for sure if Talia had succeeded in sabotaging the reactor.

He didn't doubt that she had, but the hope that she might not have was like heavy branches, and this life was a wind, billowing and full of lightning.

"Get away from me!" "just leave me alone!"

Her words echoed and crashed in his mind and he truthfully in that moment back in the apartment, when she had cracked those words through every fiber of his soul, he had wanted to ignore her demands. He had thought to charge after her and rip the bathroom door off of its hinges. Pull her into him, and kiss her till she believed him, understood he truly couldn't save her and he would do anything to save her.

His fists balled at his sides and he flexed his arms and his back, every inch of him wanted to fight. Example and rejected or not, Gotham was not worth this one truly good soul, and the powerlessness he felt in his inability to save her made his vision red. Gotham would burn; he had made a promise, a pact, and plans, but the flicker and beat, the spark of Gotham was not in the example of its destruction, it was inside of people like Kathryn. The good that would be lost, not the corruption that might be destroyed, and he knew Talia would never see it that way.

It did not put his heart at ease that Talia had also neglected to check in as was normal. There were no notes, no messages, and Bane wondered for some time if he should worry about her or assume the undercover mercenaries he had set up around her had just failed to make contact. Either way, he would need to try and get ahold of the infuriating woman, if for no other reason than to try and keep his thoughts clear of her and to know if she had sabotaged the reactor. Like this, Talia was a burden; stronger than before, stronger even than the pain he felt towards her.

"Bane," Barsad strode up to him. The other man's eyes had become more and more distant since Holly Wakefield had left, and Bane was almost tempted to ask him if he was doing any sort of drugs.

"There's been noise on the radio frequency going to the cops underground again. Nothing of importance, since they don't have a way to communicate, but we think we've tracked it to a warehouse nearby. It's the same warehouse we tracked several of the revolutionaries going into who were with the Sherman girl."

Bane raised an eyebrow as Barsad handed him a glowing tablet with information and a location on the screen. He tapped the touch-screen and zoomed out, looking for the building he had been staying in before. He located it and within a few seconds found the hospital he had let Kathryn volunteer at. Sure enough, the warehouse was in between, though indirectly, the apartment and the hospital. He let out a breath that warmed the mask, and once again, he was overly aware of its return to his face.

"Barsad, gather some men, we're going on a little stroll."

It didn't take them long to reach the warehouse. The snow had mostly melted and it made it easy to walk through the city and took the biting edge away from the cold.

The area seemed mostly abandoned, but there was the distinct feeling of not being completely alone. Barsad seemed to sense the same thing, the man's stance tense, and Bane surveyed the buildings, looking for cameras and the best manner into the warehouse. The plan easily formed in his brain and he wondered, not for the first time, if Kathryn, when designing her own plan of attack, had simply been able to plan it or if she had some kind of help.

The men were well trained and quickly made it inside the building and cleared corners. They had been ordered to be as silent as possible and used hand motions to communicate back to Bane.

The warehouse was empty, devoid of life and Bane motioned for them to check for anything underground or above.

Bane waited, the distracting ache in his chest and the gash on his stomach stung despite the medicine, Kathryn's stitches being strained as he moved more than he should. It had only been three days since Kathryn had pulled him through the city, and the wound was barely healed.

He touched the spot on his arm where the needle had given him Kathryn's blood. Remembered waking up with his mask off and thought of the events that had lead to him putting it back on.

Her hiding had been the deciding factor for him to replace the mask. What he might do if he didn't was itching under his skin, and with a final thought— that to her, he was nothing more than Gotham's executioner, Talia's whipping boy, a damned man— he had left the apartment.

He had an army to run after all, and Kathryn didn't want him.

A gunshot went off and shouts were heard and Bane was on his feet, in the warehouse and ready. He surveyed the building, eyes adjusting to the dim, and he too in the thrown open door leading down to another room. The fighting was coming from there, but the commotion ended just as quickly as it had started. Barsad motioned for him to come down, and Bane found himself slowly prowling down the steps. His hands grabbed the collar of his coat, each heavy footfall moving the unsteady metal steps, but it felt good to enter the dark below.

The room he entered was not what he expected to find below an abandoned warehouse. It had several computer screens, tv screens and electronic gadgets splayed out on a table. And, to his even greater surprise, there in the center of the room, was a woman in a wheelchair. She met his gaze with hard eyes.

"You brought the big man himself with you," the woman's voice was catty and grated against his eardrums. Her hands were held by his men and a gun had slid across the floor from her, and his boot bumped it as he came to a stop. He looked at it, then back at her and the screens.

It was obvious there had been several other tv or computer screens mounted at one time, perhaps the whole wall had once been occupied. Vaguely, he wondered if Kathryn had been here in this very room, but he cleared and focused his mind.

"Well..." he picked the small Glock up off the dusty ground, leaned against the desk of computers and gadgets, and rested the gun on his thigh as he studied the red-headed woman further. She didn't look scared of him and that was intriguing, but to his annoyance, she also looked as equally intrigued by him.

"Hello," the mask hissed as he spoke and he motioned to the tv screens with the gun.

"I'd like to know what is going on here."

000

She awoke startled and sweaty, her heartbeat racing, and she didn't know where she was. She tried to stand and slipped and felt tile under her palms and remembered with a rush what had happened the day before.

Bane, his speech, the confessions, and her hands on his chest, her fear and the look in his eyes.

Her breathing hitched.

She had spent the whole rest of the day on the bathroom floor, praying, repeating Psalms, crying out to God for an answer, a reason why, until, finally exhausted, she had fallen into a fitful sleep.

There was no hope for Gotham.

Bane would not stop the bomb.

She was cold to the bone from sleeping on the hard tile, now freezing her through her socks. She guessed the power was out and she tried to flip the light switch and nothing happened.

Despite the gloom, she starred in the mirror anyway. Her sweater was crooked and her hair was a mess. Her eyes, red and burning, looked unlike her own and she reached up to touch her lips.

No noise came from outside the room, but she couldn't imagine facing him. She had dreamt about him, and it was wicked. And she closed her eyes tight to forget the images. But she had also dreamed he had said yes, that he would save Gotham, that she had succeeded and God's plan for her, in her dreams, had been to succeed and that was what had mattered. She had mattered to God.

She was clutching her cross.

The reality was God's plan was not for her to succeed. She had failed to convince Bane to save the city because he couldn't. He was as helpless as she was, and instead of accepting their fate, she had pushed him away, rejected him in her hopelessness.

She hadn't wanted to get away from him, not really, and the more she thought about it, dread filled her stomach and she felt panic flutter in her chest.

She hadn't meant it.

She wanted him. She had been angry and scared and she was still angry and scared, but the truth was she wanted him.

"Bane ! "

She burst out of the bathroom his name escaping her lips and she swung around the apartment, heart beating out of her chest.

It was empty.

And his mask was gone.

000

The day passed dreadfully though quickly for Katty. She prayed and stoked the fire, getting into a steady rhythm of staying warm and staying sane.

If there was one thing she had seemingly forgotten in her captivity, was how incredibly unpredictable life was, and she had in her own way realized, she was the most unpredictable part of her own life. Her own feelings surprised her and the motivation she felt from fear and her past was intense and ruling. When she wanted to reign it in, rule her own thoughts, think somewhat rationally, she prayed. But prayer didn't make the feelings go away, only made the anxiety leave, and left her stomach full of butterflies.

What had she become, she wondered, that she denied her own feelings? Years ago she had taken a psychology class and learned first and foremost that feelings were the only thing that were real to a person. She or anyone else were ruled by their emotions and denying them wouldn't help her.

She didn't need to feel afraid of past scars and the lies of someone she had thought loved her, when her future was only 17 days long and she didn't think, she knew, without a doubt, that she cared deeply for Bane.

Her feelings were the things that were her true keeper, making her, real and good. But they had also overwhelmed her to the point she had locked herself in a bathroom to get away from Bane.

Of course, he had also had the decency to stay away from her and give her the space she may, or may not have needed.

It ate at her that she hadn't come to the conclusion she couldn't escape sooner, hadn't gone back out to face him and her feelings. Their mutual feelings.

So, to forget the intensity of his eyes and the heaviness the situation put on her heart, she prayed and recited songs and passages. She didn't know what she was going to say to Bane when he returned. Should she apologize? She couldn't think of a situation where she would tell him she had acted irrationally or overreacted.

She'd realized that she couldn't not be honest with God or herself, because her honesty and faith was what made her who she was deep down. How could she not be honest with Bane? How could she not admit, to quote him, that she cared deeply for him too?

She was afraid of her past and the parallels with the present, but deep down this was something different. There was a link between them, a path she couldn't truly escape or see the harm in. If her soul was damned by loving a man and not already by the shadows of the dead trailing behind her, so be it.

But still, she could not shake the feeling of his words. If he truly couldn't stop the bomb, then there was no saving Gotham. Her friends, her family, 12 million souls all doomed; that meant there was no hope, no matter her feelings towards him. There was nothing left to lose.

A knock sounded on the door and she realized she was much more apprehensive than she had been the last time as she went for the gun under the mattress. To her dismay, the gun was gone and she tentatively stepped to the door, unease weighing on her.

She cracked it open with a sense of Deja-Vu and in the hall, she saw Dev and another man dressed in mercenary attire that she had never seen. Dev didn't smile but didn't really not smile either.

"Hey," The greeting sounded so normal, and at the same time so bleak, that Katty almost cringed. Dev nodded curtly,

"Bane sent us with medicine, said you would know what to do." Dev seemed a little apprehensive herself as she held out a rather large bag to Katty, who easily recognized the names on the bottles used to make the compound so Bane could take off the mask. Katty's heart wasn't quite leaping at the idea, but it was tight and skipping in her chest.

"Oh," Dev seemed to notice the hesitation and discomfort on Katty's face. Seemed to want to ask a question, but instead just held the bag out farther to Katty.

"Well, good luck."

She closed the door.

000

The woman was sharp, and she danced around Bane's questions and asked her own without even an ounce of coyness. He guessed very quickly that she would not respond to pain and she had seen plenty of it before. He also knew from the set of her jaw and the tick in her eyes she wanted to trade information, but he wasn't willing to grace most of her questions, no matter how nonsensical they were, with answers. She was just trying to command the conversation, gain the upper hand by not answering him, but Bane saw no real threat in her, nor the need to give her a false sense of security.

His men had discovered the second level down of the warehouse; the empty storage area beneath it was abandoned though it looked like it had recently been lived in. The modified wheelchair ramp leading down to that level gave Bane the notion that the woman was of bigger importance to the people involved here than she let on.

Barsad had been going over the computers with another man named Yusuf, and they had found very little for all the locks and hidden information keyed into the gadgets in a code that was unknown to them. There were a few things that were in plain scrawl, the messages sent between several devices, most of which were the locations of various hiding spots for food, ammunition, and safe houses.

"You are shorter than you look on tv", the woman commented when he was silent for some time. He raised an eyebrow at her and straightened where he sat on the edge of the desk, feeling unthreatened by her snark; he was a very self-assured and confident man. He understood she was only trying to restart the conversation, and he decided to give her somewhat of a reply.

"For a girl of your physicality, that is quite an observation," he waved a hand towards her wheelchair's base and the mask hissed.

"Girl? I'm probably older than you," she laughed, and it was more of a rough chuckle, flat, like her laugh had been broken long ago.

"Perhaps." He was beginning to doubt her more and more. Skeptical that she knew as little as she seemed to let on, claiming that she didn't know how to run the electronics in front of her and she was waiting for the man who did to return. She didn't seem like the kind of woman who would let herself be dependent on a man; he'd seen her look before, on Kathryn's face many , he noted Talia had never shared that look.

Bane had set men up outside to wait for the supposed owner of the bunker, despite his doubts, but time was slow, and they sat in silence as Yusuf and Barsad clicked on the keyboards and Bane was lost in thought.

A light flashed on one of the screens and the woman's clever eyes turned to it and she gestured to him, then the desk.

"There's a call coming in; it's probably him. Can I answer it?"

He didn't trust her, and he shifted the gun on his knee looking to Barsad and Yusuf who seemed to be struggling to find the keyboard they needed.

"Let the good woman answer it."

His men lost no time in getting out of her way, and she was surprisingly fast despite the lack of the use of her legs, and she went to the far corner of the desk, clicking several keys.

Instantly, Bane regretted the decision.

Everything went dark. Barsad cursed somewhere in the dim. Suddenly gunshots sounded from outside, the familiar pop and ping of bullets hitting metal made Banejump into action.

"Head below," he ordered and several flashlights were turned on by Barsad and his other men. Bane's eyes had already somewhat adjusted, the dark feeling familiar and still, despite the adrenaline and the sound of boots coming down the stairs above, and the shouts from his men heading down the modified ramp to the second floor down, the darkness there was good.

"How lovely," Bane's mask made his words rasp and he felt the familiar buzz as his heart rate picked up and the mask answered, feeding more medicine into his system. He crossed the room in two quick strides and grabbed the woman's forearm. She didn't say anything but tried to jerk away from him.

"You can be silent and compliant or I will make you both, and it will not be pleasant." He yanked her up by her arm and easily pulled her to the platform leading to the storage room with him, dropping her as the door slammed behind them. He turned and in the light of Barsad's flashlight, watched the woman's eyes widen as he easily bent the doorknob up, twisting the metal and efficiently locking it without a key.

"Bring he." He strode down the ramp quickly descending into the dark.

He walked confidently down and through the middle of the room, as around him his men cleared around boxes and storage containers that littered the large area. They set up a defensive positions along the far side of the underground bunker, the boxes and two storage containers there provided efficient cover.

He had just settled himself behind one of them, checking the contents of the gun as he went, when the room echoed with the sound of the door above being hit. The room got horribly still as Barsad came up beside him, the woman, now gagged and bound, making the only sound, fighting to sit up where she had been left.

"Lights out." Bane didn't need to shout in the stillness, and one by one the flashlights clicked off.

Then the door above them crashed open and all hell broke loose.

000

The door to the apartment banged open and Kathryn jumped, the sketchbook in her hand falling to the ground. Bane entered, his large coat slipping off his shoulders and for a moment he seemed larger than she had remembered, the door frame dwarfed by his immense size.

She stood and wasn't sure why, but she approached him boldly and when he turned from hanging his coat by the door, she was right in front of him, looking up into the mask that covered his face. He glowered at her over the mask, and the surge of energy she had felt melted, both of them still in the darkening apartment. Now that she knew his face, all she wanted was for the mask to leave, to uncover the man she had saved, but in his gaze the confidence she had felt withered. All of the words she had planned to say stuck in her throat.

"Gotham's hero," he spoke first, and his voice was barely human behind the mask. The steel edge of his voice and the look in his eyes matched the fierceness and deadly edges of the mask's surface. There was no hint of the Bane that had joined her for a meal, no hint of the man she had saved. He was mocking her, she realized.

"Bane… I... " She didn't know what to say, the words sticking in her throat like she couldn't swallow, and she was reaching up her hands, palm up in a sign of peace. A copy of what had put her at ease when Barsad had come to speak to her, hoping the gesture would rely as much with Bane.

"Bane...?" He was breathing deeply, his chest heaving in and out and behind the mask, his breaths had turned to growls.

She watched, her feet feeling frozen in place as the mask on his face started dripping.

The mask was melting, the liquid like molten metal slipping through the tubing and falling onto his boots and hissing on the floor. She stood silent, unable to breathe as the metal was moving upwards, the shining liquid covering his cheeks and his forehead, over his shoulders and down his spine.

"Do you wish to know me?" The voice that came through the mask was rough and she was able to take a step back. The sounds of the nightmare was familiar; evil laughing at her in the form of Bane, as he slowly became one with the mask.

He shoved her back and she tripped, catching her balance against something, and then hands were grabbing her.

"Let go!" she yelled as she looked down and saw the makeup on the hands, the white oily paint under the disgusting nails and a laugh, high and shrieking hit her ear drums.

"Little **King**!"

She pulled away and turned to find Bane, her vision clouded and dark. She had to focus hard on what was around her. The Joker dashed in and out of her vision and for a moment she saw Carolynne kneeling in the corner, her hair greasy and eyes dim.

"Bane?!" She was spinning in circles and finally stopped as she saw him, his body seeming to double in size and he was holding Holly, her throat in one now metal fist.

"Do you wish to know me?" He snarled again, and she charged at him, trying to take Holly's place, but the Joker pushed her over cackling in her ear.

"Ans _werrrr_ the quess _stion_!"

"Bane please!" She was moving in slow motion, everything edged in black and she crawled forward, desperate to reach him.

Metal dripped on her hands and she looked up to see him reaching down to her, yanking her up by her hair so she was looking into his still-human eyes.

"Do you wish to know me?!" His voice was booming and it made her ears ring and tears slip from her eyes. Carolynne was behind Bane and she put her fingers to her lips in a shushing gesture, before disappearing into the darkness of Katty's vision. Very suddenly, Talia stood in the darkness, replacing Caroline. Talia's own green eyes were gleeful and she followed Caroline into the darkness, slowly, a smile spreading on her face as she went.

Kathryn felt the muzzle of Bane's gun to her head and heard Holly sobbing somewhere very far away.

When she looked into Bane's eyes, they weren't mad. She gazed at him, as close as she had been the morning before, and they were sad and broken. Tears slipping from them as quickly as metal and blood dripped from the mask.

"Yes, Bane, I do, I was wrong!"

A gunshot went off.

Kathryn awoke with a start, her dream chasing her into the apartment and wrapping her in a panic that made her heart hurt and she was looking around the room, eyes wild. She was still alone and somehow that made the feeling so much worse.

She hated nightmares, hated the Joker running around her mind, and worst of all, Bane a tormented man. Twisted and broken, his mask smashed and bloody made her gasp for air. The weight of the dream was getting harder to hold up, coming in waves that broke the reality of the apartment around her as she thought about it— thought about Bane. About what her life would be like if she had left him to die instead of saving him.

She stood abruptly, tripping on her blanket and pitching forward she grabbed the edge of the fire pit, the concrete cold to the touch. She punched the stone, cursed, and held her hand to her chest as she stood erect. The old bruises on her knuckles rekindled and made her want to cry. She was just too upset with herself, it made everything she did feel worse and was made even more overwhelming by the quiet of the apartment.

Fuck Bane, for leaving her alone.

She went to the kitchen. She was hungry and somewhere the back of her mind she was aware of Bane's constant reminders that she must eat.

She passed the table where earlier she had slaved away for hours, stirring, mixing and making the medicine that would help Bane out of the mask. She hadn't been necessarily unhappy to make it, her feelings turning from hopelessly frustrated with herself to hopelessly lonely and frustrated with him. She didn't like that she was running from her own feelings, blaming everything on him as she pumped medicine into syringes, but she didn't know what to feel because she didn't want to feel anything at all.

When she entered the little half circle area of the kitchen, she noticed the leftover dishes from the day before. They were clean and sparkling in the early morning light.

He, of course, had fucking done the dishes.

With some vigor she grabbed and peeled a banana, taking fast and angry bites out of it as confused feelings swirled through her mind.

She didn't mean to be angry. She was, of course, angry with the nightmares, and Bane for being gone, and at herself for being mad, but she had replaced the fear of her dream with anger, and that was a hell of a lot easier to deal with.

But by the time her banana was finished and she was chewing an overly large mouthful, the momentary childish anger had ebbed and a hole had opened up inside her, the loneliness of the room and the weight of her dream demanding attention. So, she prayed silently as the cold room made her start to shiver.

She missed Bane like you missed someone you wanted to banter with, and she tried to deny that she missed flirting with him, in a sense, and convince herself what she really was feeling was a need to check on the stab wound. After all, it would suck if the stitches didn't heal properly, and God only knew what he was doing now that would probably ruin them.

She was looking at one of the bowls from the night before as she chewed, the shadows in the room lengthening as the morning grew brighter and the sun came up casting it in a dull light. She realized she was praying the wound would heal well and also that she was holding her cross, the string Bane had given her winding in her fingers. She wondered where Bane could be in the city, it was late for him not to have returned. She normally would have assumed he was fine, he could take care of himself, but he was injured. She was frustrated with the troubling thoughts of Bane and found herself picking up the bowl from the drying rack.

She threw it. She watched it smash and shatter in a thousand different directions.

It felt good, and it felt bad, the best part being the sound it made in the empty apartment, and she quickly was picking up the other bowl, and tossing it against one of the cabinets. The sound was deafening…

It took no time at all for the dish strainer to be empty and the floor to be full of shattered glass.

Something about it was satisfying. She felt pulled apart at the seams and seeing something else, more fragile than her, even though she didn't truly know what it meant, made her feel better.

"Clean that up Bane," she spat, though she quickly realized she wasn't as angry with him as she was lonely without him. She wanted him there.

So she kneeled down in the midsts of her broken masterpiece, trying to forget him in prayer. The glass glittering and shining in the fresh sunlight all around her.

000

It was becoming increasingly clear to Bane that this had been an ambush. The woman, whoever she was, had wanted them to intercept those messages, maybe even used a frequency they frequented on purpose, and she had wanted them to come down into this storage facility, trying to make it their tomb.

He was determined to make it hers.

He had her gag removed and tried to question her amongst the gunfire. Her cold eyes glowered at him and he wanted to crush the life out of her, but he stayed still, manifesting his annoyance with her by the rage and steel in the eyes above his mask. The woman reminded him of the perfect cold blooded mix of his Talia and Kathryn. Like she had faced life head on and been broken in body but not in spirit and would fight tooth and nail for what she wanted. Like Kathryn, but also like Talia al Ghul, she would use whoever she wanted to get it.

"We've intercepted messages prior to this." Bane ignored the gunfire pinging around them and thought of the many messages his men had reported in the files he was always looking over, trying to find a real threat in the mix of angry voices over the radio. He focused on the woman on the floor beneath him.

"I presume you sent them. We have received messages at the Gotham airport also. All the aircraft there have been destroyed, not even my own men could leave Gotham." He gestured to the men hiding beside them, feeling the power of having their lives in his hands. Her eyes flashed.

"You'd doom your own people to all of this. To the possibility of being blown up." It was a statement, not a question, and she didn't flinch as automatic gunfire sprayed the container they were hiding behind.

"Gotham is more than buildings and streets; it is the people within that make it a disease. Perhaps even my own." He thought of Talia, but deep down all men were corruptible at a price and the men he had following him were as well. Even if he had been the one to buy their loyalty and lead them to a city they would all kill together.

"Gotham the city might fall, but it will rise again." She said it with a stillness and purpose he had seen in Kathryn, and he knew then he would not learn anything from this woman. He pulled the gag down into her mouth once more and stood from his crouching position, his joints popping.

The gunfire was ceaseless and the men and women of Gotham who had gotten tangled in this war, fought and fought hard, but, nonetheless, poorly. Compared to his trained army they were easy to pick off as they moved, sticking heads out haphazardly to check for targets or checking corners poorly, giving his men an extreme advantage, but he was careful to caution his people to not get cocky.

From the constant influx of new fighters from above, Bane knew deep down they were greatly outnumbered by the people of Gotham. His own men above should have called for help, and even if they hadn't been able to in time, Barsad had set up a check-in point that would be coming up within the hour.

Bane raised his gun and fired two rounds at one of Gotham's defenders attempting to make his way from one container to the next. The man yelled, and the room echoed with the sounds of guns, but the figure made it across the gap alive. Bane glowered as he stepped back behind his own shipping container barrier. Truthfully, he did not enjoy guns; he liked to feel the person be crushed beneath him. He had the brawn and the muscle to take a man down, so it was best to use it. To stay sharp. The pit had taught him you never knew when things could go wrong.

He raised the gun again and moved to find a target, only to pull back to the safety of shelter as an explosion sounded and fire billowed up towards the ceiling.

Barsad cursed somewhere and several of Bane's mercenaries had taken the fiery opportunity to mix up their positions. One was downed, blood pooling from a fatal gunshot wound.

Bane gazed out upon the now fire-ridden spot where the explosion had been. It was a relatively small area and he imagined the explosive was homemade, but it was spreading rapidly, sparks flying. Another eruption and fire billowed in a cloud towards the ceiling. Bane jerked back as gunfire pinged by his head.

Not only were they out numbered, but now if the people of Gotham did not, by some chance, overrun them, the fire would.

* * *

Hello everyone! Sorry for the time delay in posting this. My usual beta/proof reader had started school and i couldn't get ahold of him! I actually reached out to a sub forum in one of my chat groups, looking for a beta and ended up meeting the talented Deinvati. Let me tell you they have been most helpful and really helped me clear up some points in this chapter! (Go check out their fanfictions on AO3, they are a brilliant writer. VERY talented!) Thank you so much for Beta reading for me dear!

This chapter took me some time, mostly because i kept deleting and rewriting Katty's dream. I wasn't sure if it fit right, but i finally decided what the heck! I wanted her to be a tad bit haunted by Bane's firsts proposal to be friends. Because i sure would be.. I also had trouble because this chapter and the next were supposed to be only two chapters, but i split them into three... Some bits will be shorter than i planned. But i think it's important for cliff hangers sakes...

Thank you to my lovely reviewer Susie! You caught my OOC moment! I didn't even realize what had happened, and neither did my editor! We just skipped over it! Thank you! I urge all my reviewers to speak up about this. Because i am all game for editing chapters, or even lengthening them to accommodate what you think would be realistic.

There will be more chapters! Don't you fret! If you ever worry that i may be slacking or taking to long you are always welcome to send me questions or asks ( here or on my tumblr). I am NOT a shy person and encouragement, or even the occasional, "you're so slow!" is always helpful to me. :))

I am doing my darndest to try and capture the feelings that had come to light in the last two/three chapters of the original She Rises, i am nervous about it though. There's a lot to wonder about when it comes to what Kathryn wanted for these last chapters... I promise i am trying! ( if you have suggestions or thoughts please feel free to throw ideas at me!).

For those of you who mentioned wanting to pool together writing that was inspired by She Rises, i am SO GAME. Absolutely please! If you have anything lets figure out a way to compile these Fanfictions of this fanfiction! I would just adore reading your own versions of an ending or ficlets or anything! Please i urge you to not be shy! Let's figure out a way to compile and communicate!

Thank you for your patience!

-Diemondgrimm


	4. Chapter 33

**Chapter 33: Fire Grows**

 _What A Good Woman Does, Joy Williams_

 _Edited 3/20/2019_

 _000_

Smoke was beginning to become stifling and the heat was making Bane sweat uncomfortably under his mask. At this rate it would take less then a few minutes for the fires to finish their crawl along the floors and make it up the walls, onto the roof and second level above them.

As it where, all returning gunfire had slowed or stopped from his men. Their ammunition was low and several of them had paused coughing and panting for air before he had even given the signal to stop firing into the chaos.

The woman blindfolded and gagged, coughed roughly beside him, her upper body convulsing. In return the storage container they were behind was lit up with gunfire. Her rescuers had no idea what they were doing made the woman's eyes open wide and flicker with what Bane would later recall as little bits and pieces of PTSD. Troubled memories, barred up behind strong eyes and bitter laughter.

"Come out! You can't hide!"

The voice sounded almost childish to Bane who had been in situations like this before. They were stressing on the other side, not realizing how the fire had beaten the Gothamites and Bane's troupe; he wanted to crush them for their ignorance. He hadn't minded the fighting, the rush and the men, his mercenaries had been able to kill had been satisfying enough until the attackers, the idiots that they were had lit the fires.

That's when things had become pressing. He knew his men would be sending backup after them if they were gone longer then six hours, but backup had come, and nearly 14 hours had passed since they had first entered the lower room. It was clear from the gunfire and noises above him, his men above were no closer to getting him and his survivors out of the warehouse, then they had been when they had arrived.

He shifted his weight and looked at the woman again, her red hair playing out in a messy halo around her head, her nose red above the gag from coughing. Woman, women, all stronger and more then they seemed to be. Talia and her bitterness, Kathryn in her hope. What made this woman tick? He kneeled over her, his eyes adjusted to the flashing, fiery lit dark and he easily caught the fear that marred her stoic complexion. He pulled down her gag and she gasped in smokey air only to wince.

"Tell me," his mask made his low voice into a growl, "do you know how many of your men there are?" He read her facial expressions, and he guessed she did not before she spat bile at him. He jerked away, but made the motion smooth as he rose and stepped over her and into the shadows of the next shipping crate. He did not bother to hide from the gunfire. The blazing fire hiding him from Gotham's heroes as he crossed the gap between shelters.

Barsad was there and the man was tightening a bandage on his arm with his teeth. Bane looked over his men, all of them seemed fatigued and he knew they must be hungry, his own stomach had given up growling hours earlier and turned to painful jabs instead.

"We need a distraction plan." Bane mused aloud and Barsad grunted in return, the bandage still between his teeth as he tied it off.

"We'll need to sacrifice," Bane glanced over his shoulder counting the men he had left.

Only four had fallen, his men were smart, staying to the shadows, but those four were enough to leave the morale low.

"All of these men," Barsad's voice was a mix of discontent and blandness that continued to edge towards unnerving Bane in the same way looking at taxidermied predators in a museum did.

"I hand picked them," Barsad was bent over adjusting a brace on his knee so Bane couldn't see the others face, though he could guess it would still be blank as ever.

"Would be a shame," Barsad's voice was somewhat breathy, and Bane welcomed the inflection on the younger man's tone. With tired hands he grabbed his vest to steady himself.

"More of them have not arrived since the smoke became trifling." Bane noted and even though Barsad was staring at nothing and gave no notion that he was listening, Bane did understand the man well enough to know he had his full attention despite his deadpan face and limpness.

"Next opportunity we get, we will charge. Chosen men or not."

"What a shame," Barsad's eyes were like oil, his voice unamused as he signaled the plan to his men.

"Indeed, but it must be done." Bane's own voice was take charge, with the inflection of a leader and he disliked how the tone felt in his mouth. A few short months ago he had relished this, the choices to throw away or cherish lives at his fingertips, now it felt all wrong. And he thought of Kathryn and wondered if the girl would be happy or relieved if he just stayed still and let the fire engulf him.

"Barsad," Bane hadn't meant to sound so curious, but his mind had been elsewhere. The man looked up in reply, for the first time giving Bane the actions of his attention.

"Have You seen Holly Wakefield since she escaped?" He searched the mans face, but Barsad's expression was as usual, blank.

"No." It was an unhappy reply, one Bane felt the man wished he could change, and that was something Bane could strangely understand. Bane also felt unsettled towards the girls, and Holly's words about their strength not coming from numbers came back to him. It was true, and he wasn't sure if Kathryn's blatant rejection the day before had been strength or her fear, and he suddenly remembered the marks of her nails that had dug into his forearms, and they were too numb. He was too numb to what had happened between them.

"I thought you were going to tell me I'd be the one to be goin' out there." Barsad's voice broke the clouding thoughts from Bane's mind, and several sprays of gunfire made Bane realize what Barsad had meant. The man though quiet and bland proved once again to be familiarly honest with Bane. Something he had liked from the very first from Barsad, a loyalty that couldn't not be bought. Barsad, had come to Gothem with Bane telling the truth, and wanting to serve with his life, as long as he worked for Bane. A world away, Bane had helped Barsad get off the streets and away from drugs, and he perceived Bane as someone to follow because of it.

"No brother," Bane was quiet, the mask hissing as he thought of ways to save his men and his appreciation for Barsad and others loyalties.

There had been no other ways out of the storage area, nothing to use as cover besides the few crates and empty storage containers on the four sides of the room. Nothing else to do, but try and charge past the few remaining rebels. There would be casualties, but Bane didn't know how to choose anymore.

With popping and cracking, the fire blazed, and several of his, and the apposing men yelled and for just a moment the gunfire paused as the flames roared.

It had reached the roof, met the wood and metal there and come to life anew, the growing heat and light blinding after the smoldering darkness, and it became clear just how much smoke was polluting the air. Bane took the distraction as a sign and an opportunity. Motioning to the men beside Barsad with a jerk and a call.

Than they were all charging across the open space to the pillars supporting the roof on the east side of the room, gunfire spitting. Bane aimed the gun as he ran, counting on muscle memory to get him to a sheltered location, while he shot two rounds. Both met their mark and one fire lit silhouette screamed while the other died instantly with a bullet through the skull.

He had seven of the eight men who had run with him, and there was plenty of small odds an ends they could hide behind in the warehouse. From then on out he knew it would be a game of hide and seek, racing against the encroaching fire.

000

The fire was hot and heavy, the roof had burned and pieces had come crashing down in several places in hellfire chunks, and the gunshots and screams from outside had been drowned out by the roar from the flames. Bane had not expected to be stuck behind a wall of bullets for this long, and now that the fight had finally died, his men triumphing over the untrained. He realized it all might have come to late.

He stood at the base of the stairs. The ramp and steps leading to safety were surrounded at the platform top by fire, leading up to nothing more than flames, like a staircase to hell.

His fists clenched at his side and his eyes flashed to the few men he had left, Barsad had his red scarf up over his face and was looking up at the ceiling his hands limp at his sides.

Bane took a step onto the stairs and jerked his hand back when he touched the railing, it felt cold to the touch and he looked at his hand to see a blister already forming. He held it up to his men as a warning.

"One at a time, and do not touch the metal."

He took the first couple steps up, the air already feeling hotter before he had even taken the first curve in the stairs. It was so dry, and if it hadn't been for his mask filtering the air he was sure he would have been coughing and not only from the smoke, but the incurable dryness his men were suffering from.

In the end the coughing was what had won them the battle, the few men left against them had coughed away their hiding spots and one had even screamed out in a panic at one point. He had died quickly, his companions were not all so lucky.

The stairs shifted under his weight and Bane gritted his teeth, he was almost to the roof and the fire spread out like an upside down ocean of flame, rolling and eating away at the roof, was only paces away from him now. He could feel the metal of his mask heating against his skin, but to him the raw heat, the sparks, it all felt very much like it was cleansing.

Somewhere in the warehouse something fell and it sounded like an explosion that sent waves of hot air and fire rolling at him as he reached the door that he had so unceremoniously slammed shut earlier. It had been busted open and now he put his shoulder to it flames all around, glanced inside for only a second before charging in. There was two men, and one woman, facing the opposite way, two with guns pointed out the original exit he and his men had come through.

In seconds the three were dead.

He had only two very lucky bullets left so he took their guns and went for the second set of stairs, Barsad now beside him and another was coming up the ladder in a rush. Bane smiled under the mask.

The sun was setting outside, he hadn't expected that, and he shot two more surprised citizens of Gotham in the back as he exited into the morning sunlight.

000

Bane did not return like she prayed for. Hours passed as they usually did while Kathryn prayed, quickly and slowly and all at once, but the door never opened and she finally stood, her knees aching and with time and the tiny shards of glass imbedded through her sweats.

She walked, air hissing through her teeth as she stepped on tiny pieces of glass, then she jumped up on the counter and climbed over the island to a clear patch of floor and made her way to the door.

She opened it, glancing out at the guard, who turned and she closed it quickly so he didn't see her. She wished it had been Barsad, or Dev, someone she could talk to.

Instead she made her way to the couch, pulling her socks off and brushing at the souls of her feet, picking at a piece of glass there.

It was almost dark outside again and she wondered how long she had been kneeling and praying. She had finally gotten up because she had started to doze off to sleep sitting there in her little glass creation, and the fear of falling into the broken shards had been the thing that convinced her to brave the way out of the booby trapped area.

She set her foot down on the cold floor and tested, there didn't seem to be any glass there, and she stood. Hoping to make a fire. She had camped before, not as often as she had thought she would as a kid, but more then she had enjoyed as an adult. Woods were for outings, not living in, at least when without plumbing, and she struggled to get the fire lit.

She watched the few pieces of wood they had start to burn, Bane had mostly built the fires, she had added wood, but building was his job, and she wondered were he had learned such a skill. _Mercenary school of course ._

She smiled at the warmth from the fire, and warmed her hands. She should eat something, it was probably close to dinner time, maybe she'd finish the horrible cheese and crackers just to spite Bane.

Who's favorite food was cheese on toast anyways?

After a quick snack, where she spent most of her time wading through glass and regretting having smashed her mug. She went to her curtained area of the apartment to lay down. She had wanted to take a shower, but the power was still out and the fire was nowhere near strong enough to give her cause to chance getting that cold. As it were she curled up in the jacket bane had gotten her, and all her blankets still somewhat cold. She hugged herself, drifting off to sleep, wondering were Bane might be...and full of regret...

000

The warehouse fire had taken its toll, the final men he had with all made it up to the surface, but at a cost. Six had been shot and killed, and 3 had been hurt and all where coughing from smoke. Several had horrible burns and he could only assume some damage to their lungs. He seemed to be fairing better then the rest thanks to the filter in his mask, and the constant humidity from the vaporized medicine.

But they were alive. Even after all the fighting when they had come to level ground.

The reinforcements that had arrived much earlier, after they failed to check in, had finally cleared most of the buildings by the time Bane and his men exited the underground. Just a small group of the gothamites huddled in one office building had survived till then, and they came charging out in a desperate act of martyrdom.

Bane and his men fought harder still above ground. For an hour or more, it was then, when the fight was winding down that Bane finally got to fight hand to hand.

With blood still dripping from his forearms and fists he surveyed his men. He'd lost more then expected in their fatal charge and he admired Gotham's sting, but all bees died when they stung and Gotham was full of the sound of buzzing.

After what seemed like the longest track of their lives, they had made it back to their home base and he had left his men in the medical care of his mercenaries. After finding water and drinking his fill, he went into the far end of the building they had made their head quarters on that part of town, found a quiet room, and rested. He sat with his head in his hands, his eyes closed. He felt old, if only for as long as he would let himself, but he did, he felt tired and old and he just wanted to lie down and sleep for a good long while.

His stomach growled angrily. Reawakened by the water. It was an annoyance and he promptly stood despite his fatigue and crossed the room to the door and left it's quiet confines to find the storage rooms. He found one easily enough, the stock piled food there tempting, and he locked the door behind him and grabbed several of the protein bars in a box of supplies. He sat back down once more on a grimy igloo cooler that was discarded on the ground, hands already ripping at a wrapper.

He stopped suddenly and sat still, breathing deeply, inhaling medicine from the mask. He'd almost forgotten to eat he would need to take it off, and he had non of Kathryn's medicine.

He made quick work of the mask and was surprised when it was removed just how much he smelled like smoke, it was overpowering even as he ate, his food tasting burnt and ashy. He normally wouldn't have eaten, but something in him felt careless and he thought back to the soup, or brunch as Kathryn had called it and wished for a moment he could sit down and eat with her again.

Instead he took several large, quick bites downing one of the bars and part of a second and looked to the mask beside him. He wondered what Kathryn was doing and if she had eaten that day or if she had thought of him. He could only imagine she was glad to be alone, the tension that had plagued them and her anger at his inability to change anything, had all come down to a part of her he had never seen before. Some part of her that he supposed had always hated him. The part of her he had seen when he had stolen her away months ago, the ruthlessness in her eyes, the bite on her lips, the pieces of her he almost admired most. But he remembered when he had seen that look a second time, the day he had caught her little failed rebellion again. How only hours before he had asked to get to know her. In a moment that he now recognized as him being true to the feelings he hadn't understood before. But the light in her eyes had been dim, and her words, that she had lied about redemption echoed and mingled with a voice much sweeter then Kathryn's, telling him he didn't need redemption. He had almost forgotten about Talia during the fray and he wondered with some worry if she had finally checked in. He should probably check on her, in fact he wanted to see her. Something about nearly being burned alive and the pain of rejection made him ache for a familiar touch. Talia's was all he had ever known and the longing just to see her was alien, false and much too sweet.

His troubled thoughts were quickly forgotten as his breathing paused and pain shot through his back and down several ribs. It was an odd sensation to have your breathing cut short like you'd been stabbed. His body buzzing, because he couldn't move in that moment, he wanted to crouch down low and get away from the pain searing down his ribs, but holding still made it pass faster.

He put the mask back on.

He tossed the half of his fourth protein bar onto the abandoned desk in the room and walked out, the building was silent on that side, which was only used for storage. He made his way through the halls, to the communications room. He needed to find out where Talia was he had lots of questions.


	5. Chapter 34

**Chapter 34: 14 Talia's lies**  
 _(Chapter Unedited 3/26/19) Proof Reader on Hiatus_

Several hours later, in the last fading light of the sunset between the first stars, Bane headed downtown having finally found out Talia's current location. His feet heavy with fatigue, body still ash laden and singed, but he made good time in hopes of seeing her.  
Somehow while searching for her, the smallest feeling of expectation and desire had grown, the longing for her comfort had faded into a hazy thought that she might show him some understanding, though he could not understand why he craved it.  
Before long he was speaking with one of the mercenaries stationed outside of the courthouse, and they scampered off to go find Talia, he went to where he had said he would meet her, an abandoned building a block down that had been offices in the Gotham before his and Talia's occupation. He assumed no one would be there, not with his mercenaries patrolling the streets so heavily and the adjoining buildings having been made into living quarters for his mercenary army.  
As he had suspected the building seemed abandoned and he went to the second floor, taking the stairs and waited, leaning against the wall by the stair well.  
Time passed slowly, and he awaited Talia's arrival with a familiar ache in his chest. Part of him still wanted to see her, wanted to know she was safe. It felt like time passed too slowly. Poisonous thoughts of Kathryn, how she had said Talia was using him, seeped into his musings, and he had even agreed with her somewhat, but his heart betrayed him. He still wanted to see Talia. Needed to see her. Not only for her, but to know if the reactor was truly destroyed.  
He reached into his pocket to grab the crimson string he usually fiddled with, but it was gone and his thoughts changed from Talia to Kathryn, he wanted to see we too, though he assumed she was safe. Her bright complexion, wit and golden hair. It was like war between Talia and Kathryn, he compared the way they walked in his mind, how they ate, gentle curve of Kathryn and the hard edges of Talia. He thought of how Talia would laugh ruthlessly and Kathryn's laugh was genuine, she laughed at things she enjoyed not things she was proud of. He pictured Talia's face, almond eyes, drawn brows, her nose straight and lips always expressing more then the rest of her. Kathryn however had a rounded face, cheeks with smile lines, a nose that made her friendly and lips with curved corners and a pouting complexion. Her eyes were her point of expression, truthful, bright blue and wide with wonder.  
The door to the stairwell opened. Momentarily he tensed, ready, but he quickly recognized Talia's slender form as she quietly entered. She had her hair down around her face, and her eyes were wide against the dark, she hadn't seen him in the shadows, and she looked the opposite way, her back too him, and for moment he loved her.  
"Talia," she turned and relaxed, her eyes looking him up and down as she registered that he was there. She went to him, getting close enough to lean against the wall next to him, a gentle thin hand alighting on his. She was freezing cold.  
"How are you my friend?" She asked, her voice lilting and falling over the words, her accent familiar to him and it echoed in his head. He had somehow forgotten the inflection she used on words in their time apart, and now it came rushing back.  
"Well enough," he felt cautious, their last meeting had left him feeling like his tongue was raw around her as e had forgotten it until he was in her presence.  
"There's been a few surprises, but nothing we didn't plan for." He explained, thinking of Kathryn and fires and Jokers.  
"That is thanks to you, " she prompted, and he knew without both their brains they wouldn't have been able to take Gotham at all. They had made the perfect deadly team. Only when together. It hadn't always been like that, he remembered a time before they became sharpened and honed by the world. Remembered when Talia al ghul was just a girl without a name and he had done everything he could to protect her. Protect that which could not protect itself.  
"It all feels like it's been too easy," her words interrupted his musings.  
Talia sounded slightly disappointed he noted. Her hand squeezed his as if prompting a reply, and she shifted her weight towards him. She was so familiar with him, like nothing had happened between them, but he remained silent. Wondering what kind of relationship he had let Talia create between them. They were a team, but who was he without her? She would still be Talia al ghul, daughter of Ra's al ghul, but he would be no one.  
For a moment he wondered what kind of team he and Kathryn would have made if Talia had not come before her.  
"No one suspects me," she said cooly, but her words jarred him. She was oblivious to his discomfort, her eyes distracted.  
"These people's trust is so easily bought by words." She looked back to him and he stared at her, wondering if he had let his life be bought by her pretty words. He had always loved that she was a pretty liar before, but now her lying confused him and Kathryn's voice rang in his ears. "She cares nothing for you." And for a moment, staring into Talia's sincere gaze he almost didn't believe Kathryn.  
Then he remembered.  
'This was a mistake,' Talia had said, her voice very hard, so hard it had cracked something in his chest and again in the moment seemed to weigh on him. He remembered her skin and her rushing to get dressed her words icee as she spoke  
'You are no longer with me.'  
And now he knew she had been right at that time, his soul had been following Kathryn and her brave, stupid beautiful self long before he had taken off the mask for Talia.  
"You smell like smoke," Talia commented for the first time a slight edge of concern to her voice, as if she had just noticed he wasn't speaking to her. He pondered telling her what had happened, but he decided against it. The fire and the ambush was a minor thing when compared with some of the more dangerous moments they had shared in the past, and he was distracted.  
Distracted by death. Distracted by a bomb and his promise to Talia. He had handed his fate over to her, determined to live for her, because he had been in love with her. Maybe he was in love with her, but she was a dark shade in his now much brighter worldview. Whether Gotham deserved to perish or not he did not know, but destroying the one thing he found truly good, the one thing in that moment he wanted to hold onto, felt heavy and wrong.  
He absolutely wanted to continue surviving.  
He had to fight every instinct that he possessed mot to hastily blurt out the questions that kept dominating in his mind. He was the consummate survivor who had signed over his soul and in doing so had doomed not only himself, but the only two people, women, that he had ever loved.  
Now to simply wait for death to find them did not bring peace to him. But he was bound to Talia, and if she was going head first into the fire her revenge had lit, then it would be so. His new found feelings didn't stop fated destruction. The deaths of millions, and so he gently asked, already seeming to know the answer in his heart.  
"Did you complete your task to deactivate the reactor?" There was no reason to be indirect with that particular question, and he hoped she couldn't feel the taint in his soul behind the deceptive mildness in his tone.  
"Yes."  
The room felt colder.  
He didn't know what he had expected, hadn't known he had let any hope in, but the loss of it was clearly there. He gathered himself first before speaking and the whole room seemed to shift with him as he moved from the wall to walk hand in hand with her towards the end of the hall.  
Talia's green eyes watched him, as if she knew he had considered betraying her, and he felt betrayed by his own emotions. He had known the answer already, but hope had persisted, hope he had never had before Kathryn. And even if by some miracle it had been founded in reality it still wouldn't have changed the bomb going off, he wouldn't have gotten it to the reactor. It was absurdity, and for the first time in his life he found himself questioning his own sanity as two parts of him clearly warred over the whims of these two women.  
"You would follow me anywhere, wouldn't You," he had heard the question before, and his eyes narrowed as he felt the test in the statement now. Her hand felt colder on his.  
"Yes." There was a threat behind his tone and her lips turned up at the corners, his answer seeming to please her.  
"How did you deactivate it without the rest of Wayne's finger prints?" He questioned, knowing full well several of the prints the girl Selena Kyle had brought him had been faint and unusable for their purposes, though good enough for any normal records.  
"I was able to retrieve the rest of Wayne's fingerprints," Talia explained, and they passed through a doorway and into a bigger office, with windows from floor to ceiling looking out onto the city. She pulled away from him to walk towards the glass, her fingertips pressing too it. Her breath leaving a foggy spot on the clear surface as she looked out over the city.  
Kathryn's city.  
"It was fairly easy once i got into the Manor," she explained, her voice delicate and for a moment he wondered when she had gone to the Wayne Manor a second time, as she hadn't found any prints the first time she had gone.  
He was distracted from her, he didn't understand how Talia's vendetta worked, didn't see how ridding the world of one broken city would change anything. But it'd never mattered that he didn't see it, what mattered was that Talia did. Until now, and Kathryn had led him to believe there was a chance at something greater. A Faith he couldn't comprehend, in humanity, in God, in herself. Something unseen yet something to conquer explore and understand. Life didn't seem like such a little thing to give up anymore. He watched Talia, her breathing white in the air and her green eyes bright against the light of the city, and she seemed so full of life again, like the small child he had known. If she could only feel what he felt about the world, only understand the feeling that something more was out there. A feeling Kathryn had created, a restlessness she had gently forced into him without even trying. He couldn't even begin to explain it to Talia, but every part of him wanted too. He wanted her to have the same hope he realized.  
Her voice brought him back, right before he reached for her. Wanting to suddenly hold her again.  
"Bruce Wayne for all his care is very promiscuous." There was a hidden laugh behind her tone, but what she said made Bane's blood run from a hopeful warm to a cold so still it hurt behind his eyes. He stopped still. Time seeming to slow as he pulled his hand away from hers. He stared down at her, his eyes dark behind the mask as the implication of her words sunk in.  
Talia had slept with Bruce Wayne.  
Her lips continued to twist into a knowing little smile and he watched her, as his hands slowly turned to fists without his willing them too. Images of the Batman filled his brain, and the feeling of a spine breaking against his leg. The anger he had felt towards that man, so strong and unfathomable even for Bane, that he had gone back to the pit. The place he had vowed never to enter again, just to make sure that man felt the same pain he did. He wanted the Batman to feel the loss of the city he loved so much, because Bruce Wayne, for all his antics and flair, had been the League member that had always been just a little bit better.  
Rahz al ghul had adored the man, even after his betrayal, had taken to obsessing over the winged knight of Gotham, who at the time was no one, but to Bane he had been haunting. Every accomplishment, bested by a man who wasn't even there to fight. But all words of praise from Al Ghul had gone to Wayne, and it had made Bane furious.  
But to know Talia had slept with him, used the one thing about Talia he had cherished as his, as a weapon in their plot, it burned in him. It burned and it burned like he was still in the warehouse the flames licking all around him. It hurt like rejection and heartbreak and lust all colliding and snapping in two. His jaw set and my God he was sure he could feel the pain of his old injuries and his spine tingling again, because of how long he had held his breath.  
And Talia?  
She just watched him cave in on himself with that sweet little smile on her face. Like she had won something.  
He was moving towards her before he had thought about the motion and he caught her throat in his one hand and his fist slammed into the glass above her, and he heard it crack with the force, but only saw that stupid smile on her face.  
It grew wider as he pressed her into the glass and he knew she knew he wouldn't, couldn't, hurt her.  
But even as the glass splintered in a halo above her head. Bane remembered the anger he had felt towards her when she had left him in the pit. Remembered the rage each time she had approached him after. She had left him, abandoned him for years before she came to find him. She had let him rot in pain and misery, more then once coming close to death. She had forgotten him there and all that anger at her from before was back so strong it tasted vile on his tongue. Worst of all he knew when she had done it, knew from before how she had acted different when they were together, how she had pressed him to remove Gotham's dark knight while kissing him desperately.  
He snarled inside the mask and it came out as a curdled hiss.  
"Bane," her voice was quiet and she brought her hands to the hand around her throat and pulled his fingers away with ease. He couldn't hurt her, he couldn't, so he let her, but She didn't move away from him. Just stood, holding his hand to her chest, the smile slowly fading as if she realized she had gone to far.  
"I have to go," she whispered, but he was frozen, something in his brain debating between loyalty and devotion, love and lust, and the passion he had felt for Talia only seconds before she had told him, just to spite him, what she had done.  
It was easy for him to realize he didn't understand, the "why", behind her smirk and the pain he now felt, as if he was back tangled in the sheets, his mask off and his heart being broken again, only worse this time. He could only guess and that would drive him insane.  
So, he moved away from her without an answer to his question and watched her go. Feeling more then rage and anger in his bones, this was something he could not put a word to. He needed a cure for the pain, his mask wouldn't fix this. He needed a cure for this aggression that threatened to take over him. There was a snarl on his lips, and the agony, hurt and brokenness was turning into the sound of war drums in his ears.

"Love never dies a natural death. It dies of blindness and errors and betrayals. It dies of illness and wounds; it dies of weariness of witherings, of tarnishings."  
\- Anias Nin 


End file.
